Harry Xenomorph
by peregrin01
Summary: After years of abuse, little Harry finds a perfect shape for his hatred and anger.
1. Fascination

Fascination

Harry saw it for the first time when he was four years old. Well, the more appropriate term would be "glimpsed". He glimpsed it in the Dursleys' TV.

The door of his cupboard under the stairs wasn't latched properly so he was able to sneak out and investigate sounds coming from the living room. It didn't surprise him that Vernon let Dudley watch, even though Dudley was completely terrified. Vernon probably wanted his son to be mentally prepared for anything that the little freak under the stairs might ever throw at them.

Harry just took one brief glimpse and returned to his cupboard quickly again. It was all he needed because he had a good memory and what he saw once, he could examine later through his inner eye. The brief scene (about a second long) depicted a strange humanoid monster advancing on a fear-frozen, screaming human. The creature was hideous, black, and slick. Torrents of saliva poured from its mouth. It was beautiful in Harry's eyes.

To be fair, Harry's opinion was skewed and not entirely based on outer appearance. What mattered was what the creature was doing, what it represented. To his knowledge, people were evil - the bad guys. The creature hunted humans. Ergo, the creature was a force of justice.

Justice - for the first time in his entire life, he actually understood what the word truly meant. If he was older, he would say that it finally gained any solid meaning for him. Justice wasn't the way his "family" was treating him. Justice wasn't when their neighbours lived their perfectly normal, shallow lives and ignored anything nefarious even though it was happening right under their noses. Harry knew that Petunia and Vernon were trying to hide the way they were treating their nephew. In fact, they were even attempting to hide the fact that they had any nephew at all. The justice was when creatures such as the one he admired hunted the wicked humans - a group in which Harry did not belong (at least according to his relatives).

He dreamed about the creature that night. The dream was quite vague because he knew almost nothing about it and he was unwilling to theorize at that point. He knew that the creature was both bipedal and quadrupedal. It seemed that its main means of offence were its claws (when it was standing on its hind legs) and its tail. It also had a big jaw full of razor-sharp teeth but its head was probably nowhere near as agile as its claws or tail. In the dream, he saw the creature roaming through a place similar to the one he had seen in that one, short scene. There were some faceless people running around in panic, getting killed by the creature one by one. Each death relived Harry of some of his stress and tension. It wasn't until the end of the dream when his perspective started to merge with the creature's perspective.

When he woke up next morning, he felt better than ever before. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to show any defiance. He kept lying low and earned only one sharp slap across his face that week. But the creature always remained in the back of his mind and came out every night when he was falling asleep and when he was dreaming. The dreams were always from first person perspective but he wasn't just watching the dream through the creature's eyes - he was the creature itself. Gradually, real people started to appear in his dreams. First the Dursleys and then, as his hatred grew, neighbours as well. The surroundings changed from futuristic corridors to Privet Drive.

Time passed and Harry became five years old. Both he and Dudley started to attend primary school. For Harry, it meant seeing the world outside of the Dursleys' house. What it didn't mean was new friends or any significant change in his life. None of the teachers cared about (or seemed to notice) his skinny figure and oversized second-hand clothes. To be honest, Harry never expected anything good from the humans at school. The only thing he truly desired was to learn more about the creature.

And learn he did. Snippet by snippet, glimpse by glimpse. A poster here, a stolen magazine there, the holes in his knowledge about the creature started to fill. For example, he learned that the creature had a second, smaller, tubular mouth inside its big jaw. He didn't learn how it all worked but he was able to deduce. He watched a spider eat a fly once and thought that maybe the creature fed similarly. Logic told him that the outer mouth was used for apprehension while the inner one penetrated the prey and fed on its internal organs, leaving its outer flesh or exoskeleton alone. He had an errant thought that such a way of feeding would be especially useful for sucking out someone's brain. Subsequent research confirmed that the creatures actually did that sometimes. That made him wonder whether there wasn't some deeper reason for that. Yes, there were a lot of vitamins and minerals in there but so was in other organs. So, what if there was something more that the creature was getting? Maybe it was actually getting knowledge and memories of the victim as well. But how would that work? Memories weren't just the brain-matter itself but also the way it was wired together - something which was destroyed in the process of brain-sucking.

Of course, Harry realized perfectly well that the alien creature was purely fictional. Every single aspect of its physiology was created to have maximal fear effect, not to be practical. Hence, the only reason why it had a second mouth was because it was creepy. Still, Harry had to admire the way the creature was designed and (though unbeknownst to him) he wasn't the only one who appreciated the artistic beauty of the monster. There were a lot of details which spoke on a subliminal level to the audience and increased the feelings of undefined uneasiness which the sight of the creature evoked. For example, the way in which humanoid features were melded into the monstrosity or how the creature seemed to posses both feminine and masculine aspects.

However, it didn't matter to Harry that the creatures didn't exist. Even though they were make-believe, there was at least one which was real enough - the one inside him. That didn't just mean that the creature existed in Harry's head - that wouldn't make it any more real than the ones which existed in fantasies of millions of fans of the franchise. No, Harry's specimen had a special tinge of solidity to it. This solidity was fed by Harry's hatred, anger, fear, and will to survive. Once again, Harry doubted that he was the only one who felt that way. And yet, he believed that his case was special. Harry could feel it his bones - a strange heat and even stranger connection to the phantom creature.

Harry's dreams grew more defined. While there were still holes in his picture of the creature, those holes were no longer covered by a shroud of vagueness - the dreams simply evaded them. As expected, the crowd of his victims was joined by people from school: Dudley's friends, other students, teachers, the school nurse, and such. To keep his list organized, he started to recite the names every night before going to sleep. "Vernon, Dudley, Petunia, Marge and her dogs, Mrs. Robinson and her family, Mrs. Johnson and family, Mrs. Figg..." The list went on and on and it took several minutes before he said all the names. Torrents of blood was the reward he was given for his trouble, even though he only dreamt of them.

In many ways, Harry outgrew the version of the creature which was publicly known. He stopped seeking bits of information about the franchise and relied more on biology textbooks in the school library and his own sense of logic. He knew that the creature could walk on walls and survive without oxygen (at least for some time). So the next obvious question was how the creature oriented itself. When crawling on a ceiling, it would have to think in terms of two perspectives: its own and that of the planet (and, consequently, of the prey). In other words, there would up and down as defined by gravity and "up" and "down" as defined by the current position of the creature. Simple enough to describe, much harder to abide by in praxis. Harry was sure that most people, even if they somehow gained an ability to crawl on walls and ceilings, would be completely unable to make any use of such a tactical advantage simply because they wouldn't have a sufficient spatial imagination.

Movement (and combat) in water would be different. Harry started to consider how. _"If I let go of a ceiling whilst in a usual environment, I will fall down..."_ Harry stopped in his tracks. He realized that he thought about the creature in first person. He wasn't sure if it was the first time. He shook his head and continued his pondering.

In water, up and down wouldn't be different, there wouldn't be any up or down at all. Yes, the gravity would be still there but it would have no meaning (at least not for Harry). The only directions would be forward and on the left, right, behind, ventral, dorsal. Of course, since Harry would be able to rotate quickly around the forward-behind axis, the left, right, ventral, and dorsal would be prone to rotate a lot. Harry also believed that his agility would enable him to change his direction quickly enough as well. Perhaps the only manoeuvre that would have a noticeable delay would be a 180-turn. In the end, the only coordinates that would matter would be the direction and distance to his target and positions of the bottom and the surface.

Next logical step was to consider space and zero gravity combat and movement. He realized that such a question was irrelevant (he wasn't dreaming about killing the Dursleys in space) but he wanted to be thorough. Unlike in water, there would be no gravity at all and the only "solid" points would be the heaviest objects in the area (or walls, if he was inside a ship). He knew that the greatest problem with training of pilots during the Great War was their inability to grasp the fact that they were in 3D space. As a result, they could spot enemies coming from front or sides but often neglected to look up, down, and behind. Navigating in space was as different from piloting an air-plane as piloting of an air-plane was different from walking. While there would be no "down" defined by gravity, there would an entirely new "down" - the direction in which Harry (or anybody else for that matter) was moving (or rather falling). There would be no "forward", such a term would cease to exist (unless one decided to call "down" so). In normal circumstances, various amounts of energy had to exerted to keep moving forward. However, there was no such thing as moving forward in space - there was only falling (down). Whenever anything gains any momentum, it keeps falling in the direction of the momentum until it crashes into something. That is, unless it has its own propulsion and uses it to change direction but Harry was thinking about living beings rebounding from walls and objects. Once again, all of that sounded pretty straightforward and Harry was quite sure that there were science fiction authors out there who exploited the issue but he was convinced that the actual experience of such a thing would cause heavy disorientation and nausea to most people.

Not to waste the time spent by his analysis of the problem, Harry used first convenient opportunity to write an essay on the matter. It was in his second grade and he was six years old. At first, there were two problems with what he did: his English teacher (a middle-aged stern lady) couldn't believe that Harry was able to write such a complex text and she couldn't understand what was the text about in the first place. Harry could tell that she was even irritated a bit and believed that he had cheated. Then she sat down with him and a physics teacher (an older gentleman). Harry wasn't taught by him yet but he seemed like the right person to consult.

A brief conversation with Harry confirmed that he truly understood what he had written. Of course, there was no telling whether the essay wasn't inspired by experiences of actual astronauts or even by a work of science fiction (there was actually a new book which contemplated zero-G combat in detail) but the physics teacher had a feeling that Harry had reached his conclusions on his own. The physics teacher was pleased and the headmaster got involved. The headmaster was a bit slow but once he was assured that Harry was a little genius, he was delighted.

And that was the point where the real trouble began. The headmaster and the physics teacher wanted to call Harry's guardians. Harry strongly voiced his disagreement. The English teacher took it as a sign that Harry did have something to hide - that he had not written the essay.

"No, Mrs. Hutchinson, I would merely like to avoid getting beaten for displaying my intellect," retorted Harry coldly.

The physics teacher shook his head and argued, "Harry, while being a bookworm won't make you popular in this school, not that you have that much friends anyway..."

Harry's head shot up. So he wasn't as invisible to his teachers as he had thought. "I'm not talking..." he interrupted.

The teacher raised his finger and interrupted him in turn, "Talking with your aunt and uncle is the first step of getting you to another school, more suitable for you. But to get to that another school, you would have to work much harder."

Harry took a breath and resolutely stated, "It's not the other students I'm afraid of. I was talking about my so called family." There was no reaction from the three adults. "I will be punished for showing off. After that, they will lock me up in my cupboard where I will be left to starve for a week or two. They will call that I'm sick and can't go to school, just wait. They have done it before but never for that long."

The others were staring at him in incomprehension. "What are you talking about?" asked the headmaster. He did not like the direction in which the conversation was headed. Not because he was sympathetic to Harry but because such allegations would mean extra work for him.

"Why do you think I'm so thin or why do I wear such shabby clothes all the time?" elaborated Harry and lifted his T-shirt to show his belly.

Mrs. Hutchinson raised her hands and declared, "Look, if you say that Mr. Potter has not copied the essay from somewhere, then I believe you. That doesn't mean he's going to get an A - I still have to grade his work properly. As well as the works of all the other students. Now, if you excuse me." She took Harry's paper and left.

The boy raised his head and spoke, "This is happening too soon. I always knew that something like this would happen but I'm not prepared yet. You don't believe me and because of that, there will be blood."

"Mr. Potter!" exclaimed the headmaster. "I advise you to tread carefully here - this may easily land you in an orphanage."

"Oh, that will be a pleasant change - if I live long enough to see it!" barked Harry back. "You have betrayed me and whatever happens to me will be your fault!"

The headmaster stood up quickly enough to overturn his chair. "That's enough Mr. Potter! You are giving us no choice but to deal with this properly, whatever it is. And if you are lying, you will be getting into another school indeed - just not the one where they will appreciate your intellect, if you have any to begin with."

The physics teacher sighed and rubbed his forehead. He truly did not need so much drama. Due to his old age, he was no longer able to concentrate on what was being said.

The headmaster called the Dursleys' house. Petunia wasn't very pleased about having to walk to school (Vernon was at work and couldn't drive them there) but she realized perfectly well that she had to behave as normally as possible. The headmaster was rather vague about what happened but she had a bad feeling about it. As soon as she put the phone down, she started to seethe. She suspected that Harry was messing with them somehow. She called Vernon to let him know that she was going to the school.

Harry wasn't allowed to go back to his classes and remained in the office. The physics teacher had some tests to grade but he felt tired and decided to remain behind. The headmaster asked him whether he did not have any classes. The physics teacher explained that he would feel better if he remained around for a while. The headmaster asked both of them to wait in the antechamber. Harry told him that he had more to say but the headmaster was out of his patience with him. Harry decided to obey for the time being because his best chance was for Petunia to make a blunder.

Once in the waiting area, he tried to calm himself by focussing on his inner creature. There was the familiar warmth and the strange connection to the idea of the creature. Harry was surprised to notice that there was something else in him, something which was as black as the armour of the creature. He suspected that the dark something was awakened by the danger he was in - and he was truly in danger because it was a risky game he was playing. Finally, he realized that his scar was getting warm. That befuddled him somewhat.

"I know why are you still here," he told the teacher.

The teacher stopped rubbing his temples for a moment and asked, "I'm sorry?"

"You want to have a clear conscience when this is all over but you won't lift a finger to help me. You don't even care that what happens now will determine both my future and its length. In the best case scenario, police will get involved and they will search the house. They will find my sleeping mattress in the cupboard under the stairs and maybe that will count for something. I don't actually know what the laws have to say on the matter but I do know that my guardians don't want anybody to know how I'm being treated. In the worst case scenario, the whole case will be dismissed, I will be returned in their care and they will get rid of me. I won't be expected to return here anyway so it won't raise any alarms."

The physics teacher wasn't paying any attention. It wasn't his fault, he was simply too old and tired. Harry saw that he was wasting his time. That wasn't entirely true - in the days to come, the old teacher was going to remember everything and give a testimony in Harry's favour.

Harry started to focus on the creature again. He didn't understand the things he felt inside him and after the whirlwind of events, it was all more jumbled than ever before. He tried to make sense of his feelings but then Petunia arrived. She made sure to control herself when she saw Harry in the waiting area. The physics teacher noticed something in her look though and doubt started to gnaw on him. Luckily, he did not see the gaze of hatred that Harry gave his aunt. Petunia felt a brief chill.

Harry got up and followed his aunt to the office. When the headmaster saw him, he resolutely said, "Please, do wait outside Mr. Potter. I believe you've said more than enough." He asked the old teacher to wait with Harry a little longer.

It was in that moment when Harry saw that the chance of things turning for better was very small. He had to get away. He measured the old teacher and estimated that he would be able to outrun him. Then he glanced at a big clock on a wall and noticed the time - next class would begin soon. True enough, the bell rang at the moment. The old teacher started when he realized that there were pupils waiting for him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, I need to give my students some independent work," he told Harry. "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere in the meantime."

As soon as he left, Harry's ear was glued to the door. He heard Petunia say, "I wouldn't go as far as saying that he's insane. Your colleague is actually right - our Harry actually is a genius, from a certain point of view."

"What do you mean?" asked the headmaster.

"Well, a better word is an artist, I think. He inherited his talent from his mother, I believe. Our parents were convinced that she was an intellectual but looking back, I can't agree with their decisions. They gave her too much freedom, you see. They let her read anything she wanted. When do you think she read the work of Marquis de Sade?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Take a guess. I haven't read it myself, of course - but I do know the name from school."

"Well, fifteen?"

"Seven!"

"You must be joking."

Petunia probably shook her head at this point. Harry heard her continue, "My parents supported her intellectualism and sent her to study literature later. There she met other so called geniuses, including Harry's father. The rest is history." Harry had to admit, Petunia was showing a startling level of intellect herself.

"Well, Mrs. Dursley, I understand. What does this have to do with Mr. Potter's allegations though?"

"I'm getting to it. Harry was showing signs of high intelligence from young age. We decided to support him but in the right direction. When he learned to read and subsequently become unsatisfied with the books available in our house, we made sure to let him read only the books which were about children. For example The Lord of Flies, Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, Carrie, and such."

The headmaster got a coughing fit at that point and expressed his incredulity over Petunia's gullibility. Harry did not need to listen any more - it was obvious that Petunia succeeded in weaving her web of lies. She was probably going to say that Harry was living out some kind of a fantasy, doing a happening, or even collecting material and inspiration for his own book. But there was something in Petunia's story that caught his attention and seemed to hit at the truth - the mentions of his parents, his mother especially. Could it be that Petunia was jealous of Harry's mother? Maybe it wasn't just intellect - maybe it was something else, something to do with his "freakishness".

Harry thought briefly about barging in the office but that wouldn't convince the headmaster of his trustworthiness. No, he had to get away. He needed to get out of the school first and then decide where to go next. He looked around and didn't see the physics teacher anywhere yet but he suspected that he was on his way. There was no time to waste. Harry started running to the nearest fire exit. He saw a fire alarm switch along his way and, stricken by a sudden idea, pulled at the lever. A shrill noise filled the building. Nothing happened for a few moments and then the corridors filled with panic. Harry guessed that even greater panic raged inside the classrooms. It was as if they didn't have fire alarm drills twice a year.

When he was out, he started running away while thinking about what to do next. He considered going to police but he was convinced that it wouldn't do any good. No, he needed time and a secure place to think and make a plan. There was only one such place he could think of: the house of Mrs. Figg. He proceeded there as stealthily as he could. Soon, he was knocking on her door.

"Oh, hello dear. It has been a while!" she gushed over him when she saw him. She was literally beaming. It made Harry sick - he contemplated that maybe she would end up in prison if there was a way to prove that she knew about his living conditions and if there was a judge willing to apply the laws literally on an old, crazy, cat lady. "But, shouldn't you be at the school at this hour?" she added.

"The school nurse sent me home," explained Harry and put on a sick face. "Aunt Petunia has got too much work at this moment and sent me here to ask you if you don't need something."

"But dear, if you were sent home then you are most surely not in a condition to do anything," protested Mrs. Figg. "Maybe you could just play with my... cats instead." As if to answer that proposition, the kneazle in her arms hissed at Harry. That was strange, they had never done that before.

They went inside and Mrs. Figg started to make Harry some tea. The kneazles kept hissing at him. What was even stranger was the fact that they were backing away from him. When he approached a group of them, they started to retreat until they formed a half-circle in front of him. Harry wondered if they were able to sense the alien in him. Or was it the darkness that set them on edge?

"What's wrong with them today?" wondered Mrs. Figg. Then the water started to boil and she went to the kitchen again.

Harry sat down on a couch and started to think. The most important matter was those strange powers he felt inside himself. He had a feeling that they had been there for some time, some longer than others. He decided to enumerate and describe them so he would have some order in his thoughts.

The first power, or whatever it was, was the strange heat he felt when he concentrated. He realized that it had been always there and that he merely forgot about it for a while. He realized that there were some hidden, half-forgotten memories connected with the warmth. Memories of incidents which had caused the Dursleys to hate him. Of course, Petunia's story betrayed that they had known all about it even before those. Finally, he remembered that the Dursleys had used starvation as means for suppressing those incidents and for making him forget. It was a lie that they had never made him go without food for longer than a week.

The second item of Harry's spiritual inventory was the creature. An idea of the creature lived in Harry. However, as explained before, it was more than just an idea - it was more like a phantom waiting to be given a body. The important thing about it was Harry's adoration of the creature. He didn't just love it with every cell of his being, he wanted to become the monster. He suspected that the strange warmth should be able to fuel... What? A change? Unfortunately, he had to admit that it wouldn't be enough, not yet.

The third thing was the creepy blackness he had discovered that day. He felt that it was alien, just like the creature, but it was also malevolent. Harry couldn't say the same thing about the creatures. In fact, the creatures were incapable of evil, objectively speaking. Greed, jealousy, lust, arrogance - none of it had any meaning to them. They were simply a force of nature. And yet, he wasn't afraid of the blackness - because it wanted him to survive. Why that was, he had no idea. Just like with the warmth in him, he believed that the blackness had always been there, out of the reach of his internal senses until it decided to manifest itself.

With his inventory complete, Harry concluded that these three things weren't enough. Maybe in time, he would be able to make do. Unfortunately, time was a luxury he couldn't afford. If he wanted to make the change sooner, something else was needed. Harry paused only momentarily when he finally admitted what his goal was. Yes, he wanted to turn into the creature, as crazy as it sounded. He had no idea what that missing element was and how he could find it. He felt like a guy who assembled all the necessary materials for a bomb only to get halfway through its construction and find out that he was missing a detonator.

"Aren't you going to drink your tea?" asked him Mrs. Figg kindly.

Harry looked at the table in front of him and saw a cup of tea. He had not noticed when Mrs. Figg put it there. He took a sip and set it back down. Mrs. Figg turned her attention to her cats and kneazles, their behaviour puzzled her. Harry watched her and it started to dawn on him what could be possibly needed. To lure the creature out of his mind into reality, maybe he had to offer it something to eat. And yet, if he was wrong, than his chances would be drastically lessened. But did it matter any more? He couldn't go back, he was past the point of no return. He connected to his inner creature and channelled its hunting instincts into himself.

An hour later, Harry was still planning his next move. Mrs. Figg was showing Harry some old pictures of her cats. The phone rang suddenly and the old lady stood up to answer it. Harry knew who was calling - it was the police or the school or the Dursleys. There was almost no possibility that it could have been anybody else because Harry was quite sure that Mrs. Figg had no other family than her cats. Well, Harry couldn't allow her to pick it up. It was either him or her. When her back was turned to him, he grabbed a statuette of an Egyptian cat. Of course, Mrs. Figg was much higher than him so he couldn't just bash her over her head. He thought quickly as he closed in behind her and when he got in range, he stroke at her knee with the statuette. The kneazles hissed in warning but it was too late. Mrs. Figg sank to the floor and whimpered in pain. Harry wasn't about to give her time to start screaming and hit her hard in the back of her head.

Mrs. Figg was still alive, as Harry found out quickly. That wasn't very surprising since he wasn't trying to kill her yet - he thought that the creature would prefer a live prey. He positioned himself above her and focussed. He concentrated on his inner creature and tried to perceive Mrs. Figg as food as best as he could. It didn't work and Harry had to admit that it wasn't going to help probably. He dragged Mrs. Figg to the kitchen, already planning how to kill her. He left her there and searched the house for money. He didn't find much because he wasn't willing to turn the place upside down.

Harry bound Mrs. Figg's hands and armed himself with a big knife. Then he started to make plans for a possibility that he wasn't going to change any time soon. He needed to buy himself more time - that meant that he needed more money. Fortunately, he knew where Vernon kept emergency cash. Unfortunately, that meant going back to the Dursleys' house. He waited for about a half an hour, using that time to plan Mrs. Figg's death. Then he went to the kitchen and made little rearrangements. Kneazles kept hissing in anger and fear at him but they kept their distance. When all was set, Harry spilt some milk on the floor and placed Mrs. Figg so it would seem that she slipped. Finally, he unbound her hands and stabbed her with a knife in her neck. He made sure to plant Mrs. Figg's fingerprints on the handle. It was a shabby job but better than nothing. For a moment, he hovered above the body and attempted to trigger the change. Nothing happened. In the back of his mind, he remembered that he was supposed to feel revulsion after his first kill. He guessed that it was just a myth because he didn't feel anything at all (apart from a small amount of satisfaction).

Harry wiped everything he had touched clean and positioned himself to allow for a quick escape if needed. The sun kept moving closer and closer to the horizon and when the sky darkened, he decided to set out. It seemed that he was in luck because the Dursleys' house was empty. They were probably at the police station, giving their testimonies. He stealthily crept in through the backyard, keeping his eyes peeled and a knife drawn in case he was wrong.

Once inside, he took a bag and packed some food and clothes. Finally he went to Vernon's and Petunia's bedroom and took a wad of banknotes. He stood there for a moment, considering his next move. Then he thought that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to look for some information about himself and his parents. He searched the drawers in the room for about ten minutes but he didn't find anything.

He was about to try the attic when he heard a car outside. He froze, listening whether it would pass. It didn't. The car parked in front of the house and Harry heard doors opening and slamming. It was obvious that the Dursleys returned. Harry raced to the stairs. He was about to run down when the door opened and Dudley came in. Harry lurched back and was barely able to avoid being seen.

He quickly thought about possible hiding places. The upper floor provided him with four possibilities: the master bedroom, Dudley's bedroom, Dudley's playroom, bathroom. There was also the attic but there wasn't enough time to lower the ladder. He could also jump out of the window but the risk of an injury was too high. He wasn't afraid but he simply couldn't afford to have his mobility lowered. In the end, he went to the unused room where Dudley's less favoured toys were stored. He positioned himself behind the door (they opened inside) and prepared his knife.

He heard movement and angry voices downstairs. The word "freak" dominated. Aunt Petunia remained downstairs to prepare some late evening snack. Harry suspected that she would notice the missing food soon. Vernon walked upstairs and Dudley followed. The burly man mumbled something about killing the boy as he went past Harry's hiding place. Strangely enough, Harry was calm. It was a cold calm of a killer.

Dudley stopped briefly in his room and then headed straight for his second one, for reasons unknown to Harry. The young animagus adept tensed and prepared for action. The door opened and Dudley walked in. Harry didn't wait for anything and pressed the door shut. Dudley turned around at the sound but Harry was already at him, sticking his knife in his cousin's stomach. Unfortunately, he underestimated the thickness of Dudley's lard layer. While the wound was fatal, Dudley was still able to cry out in pain. Harry's presence was given away.

Harry showed Dudley to a side, where he slumped against a shelf. Then he opened the door again and resumed his hiding position. He hoped that Vernon would assume that the perpetrator had already escaped. Moreover, he was likely to step into the room before spotting Dudley. Unfortunately, Vernon emerged from the bedroom soon enough to know that the attacker couldn't possibly escape yet. While he was worried about Dudley, he was also careful enough. Harry could tell that from the way Vernon moved.

The burly man looked inside and was shocked when he saw his son bleeding to death. Harry realized that it was his best chance to attack. He kicked the door with all his strength. Unfortunately, "all his strength" didn't amount to much. The effect on Vernon was almost non-existent, especially since he was still grasping the door handle. Harry attacked his uncle, brandishing his kitchen knife. There was a brief struggle, his uncle got a cut on his arm (which enraged him even more) and Harry was disarmed and sent to the floor with a punch to a side of his head. He didn't loose his consciousness though. Maybe it was a hint of things to come. Vernon was on him in a second and slammed him to the floor again. He wrapped his meaty fingers around his neck and reached for the knife with his other hand. Harry stopped attempting to pry the suffocating hand from his neck and grabbed Vernon's other arm with both his hands.

"I'm going to cut you up!" snarled Vernon, his spittle dropping on Harry's face.

What happened next took less than a split of a second. And yet, great and incredibly complex things can happen in such a short time. The final piece of the puzzle manifested itself. Harry's magic, his undeveloped animagus ability and the shard of Voldemort's soul were joined by the residual energy from Lily's protection. All four pieces wanted one thing: Harry's survival. The first two named were oriented that way because they were part of Harry's subconsciousness while the last one was specifically designed for that goal. As for the Horcrux, Harry's death would mean its destruction as well. When the situation became critical, there was only one option: the four pieces had to cooperate.

Vernon cried out in pain when the little hands grasping his arm turned into claws. He was no longer squeezing a delicate neck of a child. In fact, what his hand was doing could no longer be defined as squeezing because his fingers were no longer able to wrap effectively around what used to be Harry's neck. Vernon shrieked in horror. His wrist crunched and the knife clattered on the floor. Harry grabbed his uncle by his neck and lifted him in the air. His outer jaw opened slightly, in preparation for the inner mouth to strike. Then he changed his mind and closed the outer jaw again. He threw his uncle against the wall, knocking him unconscious.

The Harry-creature looked up and saw Petunia standing in the doorway. Her mouth was opened in a silent scream. Harry moved and was almost instantly in front of her, seemingly without making a single step. He grasped hear head so his palm was against her mouth and his fingers held her in place. She didn't even struggle. Harry resisted the urge to kill her and started to salivate. He burrowed his claw in a wall and mixed a bit of plaster dust in his saliva. He used the produced solution to bind and gag Petunia.

Harry took all those actions without thinking too much. For example, he didn't think, _"Let's see if my saliva will solidify."_ Instead, he simply went ahead and did it, because he already knew the answer. When he passed a mirror, he wasn't startled by his terrible visage, including an elongated smooth head. He also didn't wonder how he was able to see himself in that mirror when he had no visible eyes. That being said, the world was actually much more colourful after his change because his vision spectrum broadened considerably. The same went for his sense of smell and hearing. In addition, he was equipped with entirely new senses.

Harry sneaked his tail over Dudley's torso and turned him around. He was dead. He turned his attention to the two adults. The only reason why they were still alive was because he wanted the contents of their heads. And that was where he was at loss - because he had no instinctual knowledge of the mechanics involved. Obviously, the first step was to use his internal mouth to penetrate a skull. How was he supposed to proceed afterwards though? After a brief contemplation, Harry surmised that Petunia's mind was more valuable to him and that it was thus advisable to start with uncle Vernon.

He walked over to him and lifted him up. Vernon started to come around. The first thing he saw after opening his eyes were Harry's razor sharp teeth clamping around his head. Incidentally, it was also the last thing in his life he ever saw. Harry's pharyngeal jaw extended in a quick thrust and penetrated Vernon's skull. Harry started to feast of the brain while trying to search what he was eating with some mental sense which he wasn't even sure he possessed. It wasn't until the very end of feeding when he saw something - a brief flash of memory. He saw Petunia holding a basket with a child. That was it. Also, the image was very blurry.

And so Harry was faced with a dilemma. It seemed that he truly had an ability to read his victims' memories but he had no idea how to control it and how to use it efficiently. He couldn't risk killing Petunia in such circumstances - he needed to train first. Harry walked over to a window and opened it. He couldn't see either of the neighbouring houses from his position so he concentrated on his other senses. After a while, he concluded that all the members of the Robinson family and the Johnson family were present because he could hear their heartbeats. Judging by the sound, most of them were asleep or in bed already.

Harry moved Vernon and Dudley in the cupboard under the stairs and crept out of the house the same way he came in. He sneaked in the number five through an opened window. He heard the parents talking quietly about the day's events. Apparently, police was searching for Harry at the moment. He went after the children first, making sure to be as silent as possible. When they were bound and gagged with their own clothes, he turned his attention to the adults. He walked in their bedroom and subdued them both without much hustle. He carried all his captives back in the number four and briefly considered eating their brains right away. He changed his mind and, after fastening all the binds and checking on Petunia, visited the number three first, bringing everybody in from there as well.

The children from number five were eyeing Petunia fearfully, the adults were still knocked out. It seemed that one of the children recognized Harry for what he was. If Harry had been still human, he might have taken pity on them. Alas, all he was driven by in his new shape was cold pragmatism - they saw too much, they had to die. One by one, they died by his hand (or inner mouth, to be precise). He tried different techniques, such as penetrating a skull without killing the person and then merely sinking the teeth of his inner jaw in the surface of the brain. He tried sucking a brain while the person was unconscious and while the person was fully aware - it made no difference. Little by little, he learned how to consume not only the brain itself but a part of the memories stored within as well. He wagered that some kind of a telepathic connection was established when he sucked the brain with his inner mouth.

Finally, all the humans were dead with the exception of aunt Petunia who started to regain her consciousness. Harry approached her and his hatred towards her surged within him, eliciting an angry hiss. Almost immediately, he realized that it would be ill advised to give in to human emotions and calmed himself down. Petunia started trashing but the compound of Harry's saliva and plaster held her tightly. Harry contemplated his chances of successfully retrieving everything he wanted to know. He considered going out and practising more but he loitered in the area for way too long already. Another option was bringing Petunia with him but Harry was still rather smallish and he couldn't afford to be slowed down by a burden. No, it was time to cast the proverbial dice.

Petunia couldn't scream so she just trashed her head from side to side. The solidified compound was partially blocking her airways and she started to suffocate. Harry grasped her chin with his claws and positioned his "face" in front of hers. His inner mouth shot out and struck Petunia between her eyes. He ate her brain slowly but he didn't savour the taste because he was quite full at that point. He paid much more attention to Petunia's memories.

Apparently, there were more people like him - to some extent (Harry was quite sure that he was no longer one of them). His parents had been wizards. There was a whole magical world hidden from the eyes of public. The last thing Harry managed to read was the memory of the morning Petunia found Harry on their doorstep. There was a letter and it told Harry what he needed to know the most. His parents were killed by a person who called himself Voldemort. The person who was responsible for the previous five years being a hell was named Albus Dumbledore.

And that was it, there was nothing more for him at Privet Drive. He searched the house to be thorough but he found nothing of importance. It was time to clean up. He visited the garage first and took a canister of reserve fuel. He spilled it throughout the house. Then he went to the kitchen and pulled the stove away from its position. Gas started to leak from the torn plumbing. Finally he put one of Petunia's magazines about gardening in a toaster and ran out. He was well away when the gas exploded and the house started to burn.

There was no time to admire his handiwork though, he had to get as far away from Little Whinging as he could. He started to run, keeping to shadows. He reached the nearest edge of the village in two minutes. Then he continued at full speed southward. It was his best bet since that direction would take him to less populated areas and he was also going to reach sea soon. It was much better option then trying to tip-toe around London and going for Thames.

Sleeping countryside sped past him, interrupted by occasional forests. Harry travelled through more difficult terrain on purpose because that paradoxically allowed for greater speed (he didn't have to worry about being seen as much). The sky was getting brighter when he approached the coast. He had to be careful again and avoid urban areas. The necessity to run over an open area and a highway before jumping in the sea troubled him but the only other option was to hide in Brighton sewers and wait till next night.

Harry shook his head. No, he wasn't going to wait - not when the ultimate freedom was so near. After all, dawn was probably the best time to do it anyway. In broad daylight, his black exoskeleton was quite conspicuous. He was quite invisible during night but a passing car could illuminate him and his slick carapace was quite shiny - then he would become quite visible against the black background of a night. It was the time right before a dawn when he could go out into an open space and remain unseen. Moreover, there was a high chance that he would encounter somebody in the Brighton sewer system and he wanted to avoid killing because he didn't wish to give Dumbledore anything to track him by.

He moved from cover to cover until he was near the coastal drive. When he spotted an opportunity, he shot out from his hideout, crossed the asphalt and vaulted over an edge of a cliff. He was in luck, there was nobody near on the walkway under the cliff. He went over the boulders under the walkway in two quick strides and dived into the waves. When he swam a few meters away, he instinctually realigned his body and disappeared under the surface. He wasn't even surprised when he found out that he could breathe underwater. His upper limbs flattened against his torso to improve his aerodynamics. His tail became his main propulsion while his legs served only for stabilisation and steering.

He swam away from the coast, keeping to the bottom. After a while, he steered to the south-west because his plan was to hide in the depths of Atlantic. Above him, the sun started to rise and Britain woke up to a shiny new day. That didn't apply for many inhabitants of Little Whinging who were only then going to sleep, exhausted by the eventful day and night. Some of them weren't even that lucky.


	2. Desert Strike

Desert Strike

Dumbledore wasn't having a good year, though it wasn't as bad as it could have been or as he actually deserved. It all started with the destruction of Privet Drive, number four. Since nobody knew where Harry had lived, Dumbledore decided to keep the matter secret. After all, he told himself, he had not found Harry's remains in the ruins and there was a chance that he was still alive. In that case, it was best for the boy if Dumbledore's reputation remained intact. And if Harry was dead, then it wouldn't serve any purpose at all to damage his standing in the society.

At first, he attempted to search for Harry himself. Unfortunately for him, all his means of monitoring the boy had been destroyed somehow and he had no idea where to start looking. Hence, he needed to ask a few trusted friends to aid him. That didn't increase his luck because he would never conceive to look for Harry at a bottom of an ocean.

After much hesitation and a lengthy consideration of all risks, Dumbledore brought more people into confidence so he could broaden his nets. That included professor McGonagall. Her reaction was somewhat more temperamental than he expected. Truth to be told, he thought that she would be more loyal and respectful.

Maybe that was the reason why he suspected her for leaking the information to the Ministry of Magic. It happened almost half a year after Harry's disappearance (or death). Minister Bagnold arrived through Floo and was so distraught that he didn't even brush soot of his robes. He demanded an explanation for Dumbledore's apparent failure to take care of Harry Potter and to ensure his safety. That was when Dumbledore pulled his strongest cards: blackmail, threats, and lies.

He alleged that his defences of Privet Drive 4 had been impenetrable. However, such wards were bound to interfere with Dursleys' everyday life. Hence, he placed a secret agent who possessed the power to operate the wards and to allow safe visitors to pass through them. No one knew that there was such an agent, let alone that it was a mere squib - Arabella Figg. There was only one exception - the Floo office.

"I've considered it wise to always be a Floo call away from Harry, in case they needed to contact me. Unfortunately, that decision cost Mrs. Figg her life. She was found by the local police the day after the fire at Privet Drive. She was killed shortly before the tragedy. Somebody tried to make it look like an accident but police investigation revealed that it was a murder. Harry is their main suspect, to be honest. However, I've examined her house myself and discovered traces of dark magic."

"What exactly are you getting to?" asked Bagnold impatiently.

"Tell me, minister, what would the public say if they learned that the ministry helped some former Death Eaters to locate Harry Potter?"

"And what would they say about you trusting Potter's life in hands of a frail squib?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. "Then it seems to me that it would be best for us to cooperate on cleaning the fallout of the situation."

Millicent Bagnold shared his opinion. When the news started to spread, the Ministry of Magic confirmed that there had been an attack on Potter's home. They refused to comment on his current status until all the perpetrators were captured.

Lucius Malfoy and his friends attempted to take advantage of the situation. Fortunately, their positions weren't very steadfast yet and many people still mistrusted them. Harry's disappearance increased that mistrust. On the other hand, it also increased fear among common people and emboldened lower-ranking supporters of Death Eaters. Death Eaters themselves, of course, knew that there had been some third party involved.

In the meantime, a young and still fairly inexperienced reporter named Rita Skeeter decided to make her career on investigating the circumstances of Harry's stay with the Dursleys...

* * *

There was a shape on the surface high above Harry. A human wouldn't be able to make it out against bright sunlight refracted by waves but the creature's vision revealed a ship. A private yacht, judging by the size and shape.

It was a year after his transformation. He had gone through a growth spurt and a foreshadowing of ridges was starting to appear on his once perfectly smooth head. His alien instincts had become his nature. On the other hand, his human reasoning was pressed into background by the long time of disuse. And most importantly, he made little progress in understanding (not to mention controlling) his magic (shape-shifting or any other kind). Not that it bothered him much.

Harry made a decision to investigate and the world tilted. Towards the surface became forward. Not that it mattered to him in any way but his equilibrium sense noted the fact.

He latched onto the hull of the yacht. The engines weren't running so he was able to perceive subtle vibrations of the ship and "listen" to what was going on inside the vessel without even getting out of water. He couldn't actually eavesdrop on conversations (because he was unable to make them out and because the people on the ship weren't speaking English anyway) but he was able to estimate how many people were inside.

At that point, Harry had no intention of boarding the ship. It wasn't the first time he encountered one. During last year, he had spotted several fishing boats and he didn't even bother to come close to surface to investigate them. After all, he wanted to keep his existence a secret. He had even seen a military cruiser and he made sure to steer away from it. However, he had not met a luxury yacht before.

Suddenly, there was a guttural scream. Harry was able to hear and recognize it even through the hull. That warranted a closer inspection. He kept tracking the people from the section of the ship from which the scream had originated. When the screams stopped and the people started to move away, Harry swam under the keel and approached surface on the other side of the ship. No one was looking so he risked a quick peek. Once his head broke the surface, he was able to tell that there were people approaching. He submerged again.

Soon enough, the group arrived to the railing. Harry saw three men but he suspected that there were more behind, out of his line of sight. Two of the three were leading the third forcibly. Obviously, that was the man who had been screaming earlier. He was covered in bruises and he was unable to stay upright on his own. Harry couldn't ascertain their ethnicity from under water but he was quite sure that they weren't European.

One of the two men spoke briefly to the third one while the second one snapped a weight on a handcuff on his wrist. Not that they had to fear his body being discovered but they probably didn't want to watch it float around the ship. The first man barked a command and a fourth man stepped forward and shot the third in his heart. The second one shoved him over the railing. That was Harry's chance. He sneaked his tail around the executed man's arm and pulled him under the ship. Quickly, while his brain was still active, he penetrated the skull with his inner jaw and started to suck the grey matter out.

He found out almost immediately that there was no reason to pity the man (not that he would anyway). The yacht belonged to a drug syndicate from some Middle Eastern country about which he had never heard of before. The man who had spoken to the executed one briefly was the head of its council. Obviously, it was no pleasure cruise - the crime lords were working and the interrogation and subsequent execution of one of their people (who had been secretly stealing their product and selling it on the side) had been one of the points of their agenda.

Something stirred inside Harry. It was a somewhat human-like emotion: contempt. However, it was tinged by Harry's alien perspective. It wasn't a contempt for several human beings inflicting harm onto others, it was a contempt of a predator for the whole human race. Harry decided to infiltrate the ship and investigate further.

He checked all the windows in the hull first. There weren't many of them and none of them could be opened. Sure, he was capable of simply breaking through one of them but that would draw attention. He rather moved to stern and crept up carefully. His sense of smell and his hearing told him that there were three people above him. That was too much so he waited. He planned his infiltration in the meantime - especially in regards of being seen by somebody from the superstructure. He couldn't see anything from his position but his perfect recollection of his initial approach of the ship told him everything he needed to know. The possibility of being seen by somebody from the inside was small thanks to the structure of the ship.

Finally, one of the three men left. One of the remaining two walked over to the hind railing where he lit a cigarette. At that moment, the other man changed his heading towards the bow. Harry hoisted himself higher and his tail shot forward. In one move, he stabbed the man leaning over the railing through his bottom yaw and lifted him from the deck. He didn't let the corpse splash in the water but gently eased it into the waves instead. The whole attack lasted less than a second and was carried out noiselessly and without being witnessed.

When the other man turned around a while later, he suspected nothing (though he looked around to see where his comrade went to). Harry crawled to the starboard side of the stern, where the man was located. He had to flatten himself against the hull so the guard wouldn't see him. Once he was under him, he crept up slowly. The man leaned over the railing and stared at the horizon for a moment. Then he looked down and finally noticed the creature. Harry wasted no time and grabbed his head with his clawed hand, blocking his mouth. It brought on a memory of Petunia, whom he had grasped in a similar manner once.

Harry retreated under water and entangled both corpses in the propeller. He climbed back up and was about to vault over the railing when he realised that he was dripping wet again (he had dried up somewhat before). While the crew of the ship posed little danger to him, he didn't wish to leave wet traces for the guards to discover. During his wait, he was annoyed a little that he was starting to forget such things. It was spectacular to posses strength, speed, and instincts of the creature but having human ingenuity at the same time was even better.

Remembering his human ingenuity led him to remember that there were probably life boats and other smaller vessels on board. He had not seen any but that merely meant that they were all inflatable. Harry didn't wish to leave any witnesses and he was quite sure that he wouldn't be able to catch anybody escaping on a speed raft.

Harry peeked out over the railing carefully and noticed that there were two boxes on the stern (one on each side) which probably contained rafts. Somebody approached the stern of the ship then and Harry had to hide again. The person called out a name of one of the guards which Harry had killed. Harry heard the man rumble something under his breath and walk away.

Harry was almost dry by that point so leapt over the railing. He looked around quickly - nobody was looking at him from a window. Harry opened the boxes. One of them contained a life raft - he left that one alone. The other was an auxiliary transport raft, presumably capable of some speed. Harry stabbed it with his tail and closed the box again. He suspected that there would be more at the front part of the ship as well.

Harry heard footsteps so he dashed to the nearest door. The door was open so he could smell that there was nobody in the corridor behind it. The footsteps outside were definitely heading to the stern so he closed the door behind him. He had to keep moving, at least until he found an utility room or a toilet. The ceiling was too low so there was no point in crawling on it.

He decided to head downward first and silently clean the ship from bottom to the top. He encountered a man on his search for stairs down but his senses warned him long in advance and so he was able to hide at a toilet. The man passed by the door of the toilet and Harry considered killing him. He decided against it in the end because there was a risk that the body would be discovered too soon.

Harry reached the engineering room. There was just one guy who was checking the oil. Harry disposed of him quickly and moved on to search for other targets. He found and killed four more people. He hid their bodies as best as he could and waited whether somebody wouldn't miss them. Another man ventured into the bowels of the ship during his wait. The look of pure fear and horror in his eyes as he was being dragged away was hilarious.

It was ill-advised for Harry to stay put any longer so he moved one floor up. He was in a tougher position there. There were more points through which his enemies could enter the area and discover that something was amiss. Harry dragged his first two victims downstairs before killing them and hiding their bodies. Only then he launched a lightning attack in which he swept through the whole floor and disposed of everybody and anybody who was present. The only people left alive on the ship were on the deck or in the superstructure.

The dice being cast, there was no other option but to continue his assault. He hoped to remain hidden for as long as possible but he suspected that an open confrontation was inevitable. Hence, his first steps lead to the bow of the ship, where ho hoped to find the boss of the syndicate and his right hand. He wished to ingest a brain of one of them.

He encountered another guard on his way. He snapped his neck, showed him in an empty cabin and continued as swiftly as possible. There was a multi-purpose dining room at the front of the superstructure on the deck level. The bridge was right above it. The space was elegantly expanded by a sort of a sunbathing area which covered the entire bow area of the deck. Harry considered such a design to be structurally weak. As far as he was concerned, the only thing that should be above the deck was the bridge (and some cover for stairs down).

Harry's targets were on the deck, seated by a coffee table in folding recliners. They were listening to a third man who was giving them a report on something. As Harry sneaked through the dining room, hiding among tables, he considered how to perform his strike. If there had been only two of them, his course of action would have been simple. He would have charged them and before they would have reacted, he would have impaled one of them with his tail, grabbed the other one and dived with him overboard. That wasn't an option with the third man in vicinity because Harry didn't wish to raise an alarm yet.

While Harry was thinking, another person started to approach the dining room. Harry wasn't concerned, he was in a position where he was in no danger of getting seen. He refocused on the three men outside and started to plan a sneaky way to get closer. The newcomer entered the hall and it didn't seem that he was going to continue towards the bow. That suited Harry just fine, he didn't wish to deal with four people at the same time (not that it would pose a danger to him but it was the leader's brain he was after). Hence, Harry was rather confused when he noticed that the newcomer stopped breathing. He looked around to reassure himself that he was truly hidden and that he wasn't spotted. Then he noticed something he had overlooked completely before - a mirror. There was a full height mirror in a corner and at the moment, Harry was able to a see a terrified man in it. That meant that the man was able to see him as well. Harry was unbelievingly furious with himself.

Harry's moment of consternation gave the man enough time to come out of his "silent shock" and enter a full "screaming panic" mode. The three man outside turned towards the source of the disturbance only to see a slick monster silencing the screamer forever. One of them got over the shock sooner than the others and started calling to alarm (not that it was needed). Harry turned around and charged the group. One of them was pulling a gun when the monster slashed him. In less than two seconds, the boss was the only one left alive. Harry picked him up and wanted to carry him away when he registered more people coming in. He looked up and noticed that the captain of the ship was watching him from the bridge. Yet another thing he failed to notice right away.

Harry jumped over the railing. However, while he let his captive fall in the water, he himself clung to the hull and climbed horizontally away from the bow. Once he was "under" the bridge, he shot upwards. The captain was tuning the radio when Harry burst through a window. He (captain) wasn't quite sure who was he supposed to contact in such a situation but calling for help was his knee jerk reaction. Harry killed everybody on the bridge and then turned his attention to the guards who were arriving to the deck under him.

About a minute later, the mighty leader of the drug syndicate crawled back onto the deck. He was shaking all over his body. The screams had stopped a little while ago - that didn't bode well. True enough, there were bodies (and body parts) strewn all around the deck. He reached a box with a speed raft and was about to open it when Harry stepped on the lid. The human found himself unable to scream once again. It wasn't due to shock this time around, it was because he fully mortified by the helplessness of his situation.

Harry dragged the man inside the dining room (he didn't wish to be in open space for his meal). He clenched his outer jaw around the man's skull and did his thing. Memories flowed into his mind. If it had been possible, his contempt for the people he had just slaughtered and the whole human race would have increased. It was obvious that the only reason why Harry was the most terrible monster on the ship was because he had probably killed everybody else. That brought him out of his pondering. He actually wasn't sure whether he had killed everybody else. There was no time to analyse the memories, he had to sweep the ship.

Indeed, there were two more people hiding in crevices of the vessel. Only after disposing of them, Harry allowed himself to reminisce. Yes, he won and he came out of it without a scratch. But why was that so? Harry suspected that his success had been assured by the fact that the guards were absolutely unprepared for such an encounter. They were so terrified that they weren't able to mount an effective resistance. That, combined with his physical superiority and keen senses, assured that usage of his brain was mostly optional.

Harry was afraid that he was loosing his human touch. The fact that his brain had not even registered the mirror as a possible threat of being discovered spoke for itself. He couldn't allow himself to loose his human side and his intellect. Without it, he was just a dumb animal. Armed with superior instincts of a hunter, yes, but still predictable by anybody capable of analysing his behaviour. If such a thing happened, he would cease to be the hunter - he would switch positions with the prey. Harry couldn't let himself to regress in such a way.

There was one way how to improve the situation. He checked the kitchen and saw that there was enough food in the pantry. He found himself a cabin and started to meditate. He intended to phase into his human form. He wasn't sure whether it was an entirely good idea. After all, what would he do if he found himself unable to phase back?

An hour later, it became clear to Harry that he wasn't going to succeed no matter how much time was he going to dedicate to it. His alien form was tied to his sense of being in danger and his subconsciousness wouldn't allow him to become soft and vulnerable on a strange ship in a "middle" of Atlantic. He had to find a more secure hideout.

Harry threw all the bodies (and body parts) overboard. It was a better idea than leaving them on the ship. He inflated a raft and loaded it with (non-perishable) food, water, fishing supplies, and a desalination device. In an afterthought, he added a pistol, SMG, and plenty of ammunition.

Securing everything tightly, he dragged the raft some distance away from the ship. Then he returned and doused it with fuel, focussing on the engineering. To ensure the sinking of the ship, he made a hole in a side of the hull. Finally he started a fire and made a hasty retreat. He made it back to his raft before the explosion. He watched from a distance as the ship disappeared under the waves.

He swam for a week, dragging the raft behind him (he didn't wish to waste the gas). He had got a specific location in mind and he trusted that his alien sense for orientation would guide him there. He had passed by a small island two months earlier. He noticed that there was a small rock formation several kilometres away from it. It was a perfect setting for his experiment.

He arrived to the island first. It had only two kilometres in diameter but there were coconut trees and even some freshwater. It was completely deserted and there were no signs of recent human presence but Harry wasn't planning on staying. After a thorough search, he continued on to the nearby rocky mini-island. Apart from some nesting birds, it was completely barren. However, Harry did find a cavern which would provide him with shelter. He unloaded everything, deflated the raft partially and hid it in the cavern.

Harry made no attempt to phase that night and rested instead. Next day, he hunted fish and pondered about the drug syndicate. While it was pleasurable to kill a (relatively) powerful and arrogant person, it was also clear to him that he was going to be replaced soon enough. That was the way the syndicate was organized. Harry briefly considered bringing the whole organization down. Not that it would serve anything - any neighbouring organisations would simply move into the created space.

He started to work on his transformation that evening. He wasn't any more successful than before but that didn't disappoint him. The problem was that he couldn't just try to do the exact opposite of what he had done when he turned _into_ the monster. After all, magic was directed by intent and desire and Harry had no desire to be human again.

In following days, he established a schedule of hunting and resting during day and attempting to shift during night. He visited the island again a week later and scouted it more thoroughly. It was almost a fortnight after his arrival when he started to make some progress. The trick was working around his desire to remain in his monstrous form. Basically, he had to convince himself the he was always going to be a beast inside, even if circumstances made him to take a human shape.

As his understanding of the force which had saved his life a year before grew, he was getting closer to his goal. Then one night, it seemed that he reached it. He could feel his ability to shape-shift as if it was something solid in his mind, a glowing string which he could strum and activate the change.

The moment passed. Harry looked down at his claws - he was still in his monstrous form. It didn't take him long to realize what had happened. He didn't know how magic worked for normal wizards but he felt that he himself needed two things to make anything magical happen: intent and need - and he had no need at the moment. It made perfect sense.

In his book, shape-shifting and magic in general wasn't something which ought to be played with. It was something which should be used only when it was truly needed and when all other approaches failed. It was surely going to make practising magic difficult for him but as far as he was concerned, he had practised enough.

Next day, Harry evaluated the time he had spent on the island. He most certainly didn't consider it wasted. Even though he failed to change back to human, the entire exercise led him to greater understanding of his magic. He also realized that he didn't need to change back to human to retain his wits, he just needed some sharpening - and he knew about a perfect opportunity for that.

The only way to stop himself from getting sloppy was through experience. Experience gained in a hunt. There were many places on the planet which would provide him with just that but he knew already where he was going to go. He was going to destroy the syndicate while it was still in disarray. The futility of the notion didn't matter to him - the process of destroying it was the true reward.

Harry practised shooting with the guns he had brought. His grip on them was awkward but he managed. He imagined that it would be better with other kinds of weapons. When all ammunition was used up, he burned the raft, destroyed everything else he had brought, and strewn the garbage across the sea floor.

Harry left the island and set course for Gibraltar. He had never been to Mediterranean Sea before but he figured out that it wasn't going to be that hard to find. It was going to be quite a trip but with his speed and orientation sense, it wasn't going to take too long.

* * *

 _ **AN:** Do not try to figure out where does the following part take place. For the sake of political correctness, the region is completely fictional and its geographical location is undetermined. _

It took Harry a month to reach the eastern edge of Mediterranean Sea. It was an impressive time, considering that he didn't take the best possible route. However, he wasn't at the end of his journey yet.

He had enough time to ponder his course of action. The (former) leader of the syndicate had visited a remote village which hosted a pre-processing "laboratory" shortly before he took a plane to Spain where he boarded his yacht. Harry hoped that the site was still operational - he needed an update from its commander.

It took him another week to get in the general area. He climbed on top of a high mountain and looked around. The landscape around him was eerily empty. It was no sahara - there were hills, mountains, rocks, and even sparse vegetation and some animals. What was missing were any signs of human habitation. Harry could imagine coming to like living in such an environment (it couldn't beat depths of an ocean though).

He found a highly deteriorated road next day and followed it to the village. Once the sun set, he made his approach.

Initial reconnaissance revealed that there were even less civilians than before. The hostile presence was light and only a few of them were on active duty. Most of them were armed with old AK-47 assault rifles but some of them had weaponry which was even older. He decided to kill all the guards in the village stealthily and kidnap the commander. He intended to kill his victims by snapping their necks - that would save him the trouble of disposing of the corpses because there would be no suspicious injuries on them.

He spotted two male villagers leaving the premises. Harry noticed how they were avoiding the guards and wondered, what they were up to. He followed them. Maybe they were planning some kind of an insurgency.

The two men met a third one behind the village. There was also a tethered goat. The three man started their meeting by a prayer. Once they were done, they took out small bundles of grass they had prepared. One by one, they fed them to the goat ceremoniously.

Harry had a bad feeling about it. It didn't seem like they were going to slaughter the animal and feast on it. He decided that he wasn't going to wait and see. Their necks were snapped before they could raise an alarm.

The goat was frightened to death, of course, and started to bleat. Harry set the animal free. The commotion attracted attention of a nearby guard who decided to investigate. It was time for more neck-snapping.

The entire operation was over soon enough - the guards posed no challenge to him. He found the commander in the same hut where he had lived a few months ago. Things were completely quiet, nobody was probably going to notice anything until morning. Hence, Harry decided to suck his brain out right then and there.

His newest victim's thoughts and memories were even more despicable than those of the former leader. Probably because a lowly man had more reasons to boost his ego by tormenting those who were even lower. Still, he learned all he needed to learn.

It seemed that there was some re-structuralisation and change of leadership following the death of the previous head of the council. Harry's latest victim was rather out of touch with the rest of the organisation but even his outpost had received an inspection a few weeks before. Harry decided to go after this contact.

There was a machete on a table. Harry used it to sever the commander's head. He needed to take it with him because it was the only evidence that the attacker wasn't human. He was far away before dawn.

* * *

Harry arrived to his next destination a few days later. It was a small oasis town. He observed it for two days. There was a significant presence of armed forces and a lot of civilians. Clearly, he couldn't adhere to his usual tactic of gradual elimination of guards. Not that he shied from the idea of innocent people getting caught in crossfire but he wished to keep his existence a secret.

At the end of second day, when muezzin's voice fell silent, Harry made his move. There was a military truck arriving. Harry hid near the road and jumped into the cargo space at the right moment. A closer inspection revealed that he was piggybacking with crates of ammunition. That offered some tactical options. A distraction perhaps.

The truck drove into a storage building and came to a stop. The driver left. Nobody came to check the cargo right away. Harry moved quickly. He opened a crate of grenade launcher ammo and grabbed a claw-full of rounds. He used his saliva to glue them into one bundle and slipped out of the building.

His target was several houses away but Harry knew that the residence was guarded so he headed in opposite direction first. It was night but stars shone brightly so he had to take care not to be discovered. He moved quickly from cover to cover, using his supreme senses to avoid detection.

He entered a house. There was an old man living there with his somewhat younger wife. They were having a dinner. Harry killed them both.

There was no rush so Harry took time with his preparations. He took both bodies and covered them by some rags which he doused in lamp oil. He found a lantern, a thick string, and a candle. He proceeded by hanging the lantern on the string above the bundle. He tied the other end of the string just above a table and placed the candle under the string. If anybody had been watching Harry, he would have found the scene as grotesque as terrible - a slick nightmarish monster tinkering with a makeshift time trigger device.

When all was prepared to Harry's satisfaction, he added his bundle of grenades in the bundle of rags (and bodies). He lit the lantern and the candle and left the house. He didn't have much time to get to the residence of his target.

The building was guarded, just like he knew it would be. There was a Jeep and a car parked next to the house. He didn't see the leader from his position but the guards were an indication that he was inside. Harry also noted a water cistern on the roof.

Harry's makeshift apparatus triggered. The candle burned through the string and the lantern fell on the oil soaked bundle under it. Harry moved to a side in the meantime so he wouldn't be between the two houses. After a while, the flames detonated the grenades. All the guards jumped up in alarm but it took a moment before they started to move. Several of them got in the Jeep and drove to the site of the explosion. The others stayed behind but their attention was directed towards the disturbance.

A door on a balcony opened and a burly man walked out. He shouted at the men outside, demanding to know what was happening. Harry recognized his target and sprung into action. He approached the residence from the opposite side (than the one facing the site of explosion). There were no guards there.

Once inside, Harry ascertained that there was only one guard between him and the target. Harry snapped the guard's neck and knocked the burly commander out. He dragged him to the roof and climbed into the cistern. Quickly, before his victim drowned, Harry penetrated his skull with his inner jaw and started to feast. He made sure not to let any blood stain the water.

An updated view on the cartel's hierarchy opened up. His victim occupied a middle rank. As a result, his knowledge of the cartel wasn't very wide but it reached many layers. He interacted with many people who were under his responsibility and with several people above him.

There was one thing which stood out. A memory of an European (or American) man in a suit. He obviously didn't belong there. Harry's victim didn't know much about the man but it was clear that he was important. The new leadership was dealing with him.

Harry retracted his jaw and pondered what he learned. After all, he wasn't going anywhere at the moment so there was plenty of time to consider his options. As he saw it, there were two. One was to forget about the man in a suit and the new leadership and simply go after all the small fishes in the area. However, the man in a suit was going to leave soon, if he had not done so already. So the other option was to go after the man, find out more, and possibly hit the new leaders as well.

The guards outside found out finally that there had been yet another attack right under their noses. They searched the house quickly and decided that the attackers were gone already. Once again, most guards set out to catch any fleeing attackers and possibly save their leader. Harry waited patiently.

Several hours later, Harry crept out of the cistern. There were several people resting in the building. Harry killed them all without raising an alarm.

He didn't care about leaving suspicious marks so he needed to cover his tracks. He dragged the body of the leader out of the cistern and piled all the bodies on the upper floor of the building. Finally, he doused the pile with gasoline and set it on fire. It was a few hours before dawn and Harry planned to get as far away as possible in that time.

* * *

It was clear to Harry that he needed to move quickly. The syndicate was aware that they were under attack. That meant a temporal change of his mission. Bringing the organisation down was a goal which wasn't going to run away (if it was still that important to begin with). However, the mysterious man in a suit piqued his curiosity.

To get to him, Harry needed to track down at least one of the high leaders and learn where was next meeting going to be. Alas, the leaders of the cartel were constantly on move. They didn't have any main headquarters either. There was only one static thing about some of the leaders - their family homes. Some of the leaders had families and visited them regularly. All he had to do was to find one of those homes and wait there. Of course, there was a danger that his target wasn't going to return home any time soon.

The actual finding of a home of one of the leaders posed a potential problem because his last "informant" didn't know about any of them. Fortunately, Harry had a lead. About a month earlier, his "informant" had handled logistics of a task which wasn't entirely usual. He organized a caravan to smuggle one of the newly established leaders from a neighbouring country through a desert. Harry found that a bit strange. The caravan had not transported any contraband and the man wasn't running from law so he could have travelled back home normally if he wanted. Either way, Harry knew where to find next brain to suck.

He reached his destination in a few days. It was a camel farm. An older man was running it with his sons. It was him who had led the caravan.

As far as Harry knew, none of the people operating the farm had done anything wrong. He decided to take his chances and kidnap only the old guy while leaving the others alone. It was possible that the others would link his disappearance with the cartel. He didn't know what were they going to do but it was highly unlikely that it would somehow tip the cartel off.

He decided to try something new once he had the camel farmer. Instead of sucking an entire memory of a person, Harry attempted to consume only a specific memory. He even knew the time frame. He was successful and learned just the information which he really needed.

The new memories unveiled some of the mystery about the cartel leader he was tracking. The man had not been alone. Apart from his two bodyguards, he had a prisoner with him - his new wife. She was covered for the whole time but the caravan leader was quite sure that she wasn't local. The caravan's destination (on their return trip) was a small village from which their passengers continued on with their own car. It seemed like more trail following for Harry.

He travelled to the village and searched for somebody who could have seen the car's departure. He got lucky on second try. He followed in the discovered direction until he reached another crossroads. There he discovered that there was a house of somebody important on a nearby hill. After seeing it, Harry concluded that it had to be it. There were no other buildings like that in the area - only somebody rich and powerful could have possibly built it in such a land.

The place was lightly fortified and there were guards, of course. The lord of the house wasn't home but it was only a matter of time before he visited his family. Closer inspection revealed that he had got two wives actually. The older one seemed to be local and moved freely inside the area designated for her and her children. This area was completely separated from areas patrolled by the guards.

There was also a younger one - the freshly acquired wife. She was confined to her room but Harry managed to determine that she was European. The cartel leader had probably seduced her, married her, and subsequently kidnapped. Harry would roll his eyes over her stupidity if his form allowed such a gesture. However, he had to admit that his target was quite a handsome man at a peak of his strength. Moreover, it was quite impressive for somebody so young to reach such a position.

Several days passed. Harry observed the estate but he didn't find anything else about the guards. He started to wonder whether his target was going to show up any time soon when he was unexpectedly joined by another stalker. A man arrived stealthily and observed the estate like Harry. He was dressed like local people but he smelled like an European (or American). Harry also noticed that the man was carrying some advanced technology and weapons. He was probably some kind of a spy or a saboteur. Harry decided to leave the man alone for the time being.

Their target arrived next day (with several bodyguards). He talked with one of the house guards (their leader probably) and went right in. He had only a few short questions for his (first) wife. It was when his two sons came to greet him, all bouncing and rejoicing, that Harry saw a different face of the man. First he talked to his older son. He slapped his shoulder in a manly manner and asked if he had been taking good care of his family in his absence. Then he picked his younger son up and twirled around with him. Just like any American father would do. Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. The man was actually more human than any of the Dursleys or even all of them put together. Not that it mattered - zero multiplied by three was still a zero.

Because of his musings, Harry didn't even notice the spy's actions at first. The man took out some kind of a device and pointed it at the part of the house where the family was. Harry didn't understand at first but then he realized that it was a laser designator. He looked at the sky but he saw no planes. He spotted an incoming missile after a while though. The plane that had launched it was probably covered by mountains.

The missile crashed through the roof and exploded inside. The detonation was enormous and destroyed the entire building. The soldier put his designator away and prepared a light, silenced sniper rifle. He took some fancy binoculars and observed the impact area. There wasn't much left but it seemed that there was a body-part which confirmed that the target was terminated. He pressed a button on the binoculars to make a picture.

The soldier left but Harry stayed behind long enough to determine the fate of the second wife. She was dead. Maybe it was better that way.

Harry followed after the soldier. He wasn't the only one. All the surviving guards started to comb the area for any intruders but they weren't entirely sure if there was anybody to find.

The soldier managed to get away without a hitch and headed for his vehicle which he had hidden in a ravine. Harry "ran circles" around him for the whole time and contemplated his next move. He wasn't in any kind of conflict with the guy. Just like with the camel breeders, he saw little point in killing him. He wasn't even sure if sucking his brain out would give him the information he sought.

The soldier reached his Jeep. Harry had to move. He picked up a stone and sneaked behind the soldier. The man heard something but when he started to turn, Harry whacked him over his head.

Harry deprived the soldier of his belongings and stowed them in the vehicle. When he was doing so, he noticed a notepad and a pencil. He got an idea how to communicate with the soldier without revealing himself. He also briefly considered taking his weapon but he decided against it in the end.

He moved the soldier to a nearby cave. He took the pencil and started to write. It was difficult at first and Harry was sure that his actions looked ridiculously. After he got some practice, he tore the page out and started anew. He wrote:

 _Do not be alarmed, you haven't been captured by enemies and you will be set free after you give me the information I seek. Do not try to leave the cave without my permission or I shall have to knock you out again. While I was after the same target as you were (my intention was to kidnap him, interrogate, and finally execute), that does not necessarily mean that we are on the same side.  
As for who I am, I can't tell you that nor can I allow you to see me or hear my voice (hence this method of communication). Suffice to say that I'm from England but I do not work for any organisation answering to the government. I'm also the one who killed the previous leader of this cartel which created the current situation. _

Harry stopped writing and contemplated what exactly should he ask the soldier. Was it possible that he knew who the mysterious man in suit was? Harry doubted that but there was no harm in asking. He continued writing.

 _I want you to tell me who you are and what are you doing here. Say the answer out loud. You don't need to shout, I'll hear you just fine. Also, there is a man, probably American, dealing with the cartel's new leadership. Do you know who he is and what his intentions are? Is he a drug dealer or is he one of yours? Why did you assassinate your target?_

Harry added a brief description of the man and a very amateurish sketch of his face. He tore the page out, placed it nearby the unconscious soldier, and put a stone on it. He left the cave and waited for him to wake up.

It took several hours before the soldier stirred. He groaned and pressed his hand on the spot where he had been hit. He looked around and saw no one but he noticed the paper on the ground and recognized it as a page from his own notepad. He picked it up and read it carefully, barely believing his eyes. It looked like something written by a teenage boy.

The man searched his surroundings and ascertained that he was truly alone in the cave. He also couldn't find any microphones but there wasn't enough light for that. He turned towards the exit and thought about his situation. After a while, he made his egress carefully. He didn't see anybody on guard. He had to admit that sneaking up on him like that was quite a feat but the whole threat about not leaving the cave seemed like bluff to him. Maybe his abductor was lying out there with his own sniper rifle and maybe he wasn't alone. However, the soldier didn't think that he was dealing with a professional.

Very slowly, he crawled out. He stopped for a while to get used to the light. There didn't seem to be anybody in vicinity and he couldn't see any light reflections from a rifle scope. He continued carefully.

Suddenly, a stone impacted a boulder in front of him with tremendous force. It exploded and the soldier had barely enough time to close his eyes. Luckily, he was lying on the ground so only few shards hit him. He started to crawl back quickly. When he was turning around, he looked in the direction from which the stone came but he didn't see anybody.

The man reached the relative safety of the cave. He just lay there and breathed heavily for a moment. A paper plane flew in and landed near him. He unfolded it and read.

 _That was very foolish of you. Do not try it again. This is your last opportunity to cooperate. I wish you no harm nor do I want to interfere with your work here. Nor do I desire to upset the balance of power in this region (if you can call the current state as such). I would like to avoid any collateral damage. By the way, that's something you have failed to do. There was an innocent prisoner in the house._

There was a brief rehash of the business with the second wife. Of course, the soldier had no way of knowing whether it was true. It sounded plausible though.

The soldier pondered over what he should do. In the end, he decided to cooperate for the time being. That meant establishing a communication without giving too much confidential information. Not that he knew much anyway.

"Who are you?" he shouted. "What do you want from me?!"

A paper plane flew in.

 _Do not play games with me. I've already told enough about me and I've asked my questions. I'm going to repeat only this: Do not shout. Some people might hear you and their deaths would attract attention to this location. This is the last pointless message I'm going to send._

The soldier pondered over the message. It seemed to him that he needed to start sharing intelligence.

"I don't know that guy," he spoke after some consideration. "However, I do know that CIA has got somebody here. That's who's running this show, by the way. As you already suspect, this isn't about narcotics, it's about maintaining regional stability and preventing the Soviets from gaining influence here. I don't know why my target had to die but I guess that we are helping certain people to rise and that guy was probably in the way. Although I myself am a marine so I don't know all the details - I'm just following orders from my CO who's following orders from CIA. However, I'm willing to believe that destroying this cartel would destabilise this region. And that brings me to a reason why I don't like to share too much information with you. How do I know that you won't do something that will throw a wrench in everything? How do I know that you aren't working for KGB? I know that you don't want me to ask questions but you need to give me something."

He fell silent and waited. He wasn't sure if everything he said was relayed to his kidnapper but if it was, he imagined that he was compiling an answer.

Another paper plane flew in after a while.

 _Fair enough. As I have hinted, neither we care about drugs. Nor do we care about this cartel or the Cold War. If we did, we would be an agency answering to the government and we wouldn't be getting in the way of CIA. My purpose here is much, much simpler. We are testing something and this region was selected as an optimal proving ground. That being said, there is no reason not do something useful while here. Or, more precisely, avoid making any mess at least. As for working for Russians, there's no way to prove it but you've got my word that I'm not working for them, nor have I ever been to Eastern Block or had any kind of contact with anybody from there. Our position is purely apolitical and we like to keep it that way._

The soldier was confused a little. "What are you testing?" he asked.

 _That's confidential. Imagine a new way of waging an asymmetrical war. Imagine being able to arrest any terrorist leader anywhere on this planet. Imagine boys like you not having to deploy to countries on the other side of the world. And this is most important to politicians: No more collateral causalities.  
That being said, something nags on my mind. How do you that this CIA operative is clean? What if he's working with the cartel? For monetary gain, let's say. _

The soldier was confused by the first part and decided to answer the second one immediately.

"And if he's dirty, how do you know that he isn't dirty for a good reason?" he retorted. "Maybe he's taking bribes. And maybe they are using that money to finance something even dirtier. Speaking of which, do you even know who paid for your ticket here?"

An answer came after a while.

 _Point taken. Very well, let's make a fair deal. Here are the facts. I've spent a lot of time and effort to track the target you've just blown up. I observed you back there. I was able to kill you any time I wanted. I didn't. Because we aren't enemies. That means you owe me. That one target. Provide me with intel on one or two other leaders of this cartel and I shall let you go._

"As a matter of fact, I do know where to find two more of such guys," answered the soldier. "However, I'm obligated to try my luck and ask what are you going to do if I won't share that information."

 _I would advise against that. A part of this new program is a new method of extracting intel from captives quickly. The method is rather drastic and subjects have zero chance of surviving it. I sincerely hope that you won't interpret this as a threat._

While the soldier was reading the answer, Harry thought about what was happening. He was able to feel it. That same intellect that he had possessed a year ago, just before his transformation into the creature. It all started with a little essay about navigation in zero-G and continued with a little conversation with his headmaster. Harry was playing a similar game with the American marine. He didn't need to turn him into a friend. He just needed to make him sympathetic enough. Either way, he knew one thing for certain. He didn't need to be a human to be as smart as one.

"OK, that's fair enough," answered the soldier finally. "I'm going to give you what you want. But I need your word that you won't misuse that information."

 _Define misuse. You aren't still getting it, are you? This isn't just about new operatives, this is about a whole new methodology. A new chain of command. I'm calling the shots here, not some bigwig in a control room. I'm updating my plans whenever situation changes. On the other hand, you are merely following orders and have no latitude to respond to a dynamic situation.  
The bottom line is, I can only make a promise which is contingent on a certain situation. If I learn new things, I will have to re-evaluate. So while I have no desire to harm your agent at this moment, I might change my opinion. Maybe he will never see me. Maybe I shall have to capture him like I have captured you. And maybe my presence will save his life. After all, it's quite a dangerous game he's playing. _

"In other words, you are a loose cannon," replied the captured soldier. "Honestly, I don't believe a word of what you have written. All of that sounds way too fantastic. But, I'm going to comply. I've cost you a cartel leader, I'm going to give you information about two other ones."

The soldier shared everything he knew about two other men who were usable for Harry. One last paper plane flew in.

 _Thank you. Now, I do realize that your duty is to report all of this to your CO. Hence, I need to delay you. I've disabled your long range radio. I'm sure you can get home without it but I intend to return the parts I've taken from it once I'm done here. To delay you even further, I've taken all your spark plugs, even the reserve ones. They are hidden in a small rock formation about twenty kilometres north of here. You can't miss it. I've drawn a map for you on the other side of this letter. Don't worry about running out of water, I brought you extra while you were out. Enemies shouldn't find you here but I'm going to cause a distraction on my way away from here to throw them of your track. That being said, your best bet is to stay right here and wait for my return._

The soldier finished reading the letter. Was his kidnapper serious?

"Hello? Are you there?" he called.

There was no answer. The soldier went out. No one tried to stop him this time. He went to his Jeep. All his equipment and weapons were there but parts of his radio were missing and all spark plugs were gone - just like the letter said. The soldier kicked a stone in frustration and cursed.

Like promised, Harry wiped out a patrol to misdirect the other search parties. He didn't do it the exact opposite direction from the soldier's hideout, of course.

He selected one of the targets given to him by the soldier. It was a sheik of a small tribe. He (and his tribe) was essential for most of the cartel's smuggling routes.

It was quite simple to follow a trail left by the tribe. Harry caught up with them after midnight. Women and children were in their tents already, just like most men. He approached from downwind direction so he wouldn't alert horses and camels.

Slinking between shadows, Harry searched for the sheik first. He found his tent but it was almost impossible to get to it unseen because of lack of cover. He observed it for a while though. His sensitive hearing revealed that there was some kind of an argument going on inside. Judging from the voices, it was the sheik and his wife (his oldest one most probably). The argument was short lived. There were several slaps followed by a beating by a cane.

The whole incident gave Harry a pause. Any women living in such a country and being able to oppose her husband (a sheik to boot) deserved his respect. Not that it would make him change his attack plans. He couldn't allow such details to make him go soft (like when he spared the soldier).

He started killing the guards, one by one. Once they were all dead, he moved onto anybody else who was outside. He faced a dilemma afterwards. Should he eliminate all possible threats or should he just take his primary target and leave? He opted to secure his primary target first and decide his next step afterwards.

Harry entered the sheik's tent. He slept alone. That was convenient. Harry prepared a bundle of clothes and wrapped them around his outer jaw. When he penetrated the sheik's skull, he used the bundle to muffle the sound. If Harry wasn't a monster, he would find the idea of such a "silencer" hilarious.

He ascertained almost immediately that he found what he was searching for. There was going to be a meeting in an ancient city carved in a mountain about eighty kilometres away from their location. That meant that he had to prevent the tribe from reporting the attack. Luckily, the sheik's memories gave him perfect knowledge about the tribe. He know who his lieutenants were and who was merrily following orders. But that wasn't where it ended. He had to give it to the sheik - he knew his people well. There were many men who had no influence in the tribe but with the sheik and his lieutenants dead, they were most certainly going to take advantage of the situation.

Harry remembered the promise he had given to the soldier. He had a feeling that slaughtering an entire tribe would be considered as evil by him. Alas, leaving the women and children of the tribe to fend for themselves was just as bad. Finally, he realized that he could simply turn it into the soldier's problem.

Harry started by taking the sheik's calligraphic pen, an inkwell, and a paper. He wrote, "I'm sorry for everything," on the top of the paper in the sheik's handwriting. He drew a map with directions to the soldier and the radio parts he had hidden. He laid the paper on the sleeping form of the oldest wife and placed a knife, a pistol, a revolver, and a rifle next to her.

He carried the sheik's carcass away and began his work. He took a knife (to prevent suspicion) and started entering the tents one by one. He was like an angel of justice, taking lives of those he deemed unworthy and leaving the rest. Maybe he had no right to judge anybody but he didn't give a damn. He executed many men, old and young. Even some boys and women fell to his knife. He left some of his targets alive for the time being. He planned to kill them later to support the illusion he was trying to create.

When he was done, he disabled any means of radio communication in the area. He spilled gasoline on upwind side of the camp. He joined all gasoline trails at a certain spot and placed a torch above it. Finally he took an AK-47 and a Mosin Nagant and hid at a vantage point near the place with the torch. He wrapped his clawed hand around the Mosin Nagant. It was one of the rifle variants and it seemed old. It felt small to him but it still fitted perfectly. Maybe because the trigger guard accounted for winter gloves? He put it aside and took the assault rifle. He wasn't able to put his finger inside the trigger guard but he didn't need to. He switched to full auto, stuck a tip of his claw inside the guard, and opened fire.

People woke up and and started to panic. Harry emptied the magazine, dropped the rifle, and grabbed a stone. He chucked it at the torch. It fell and ignited the gasoline. Flames whooshed and reached tents in a second. All tents on that side of the camp caught on fire and herded the people away from Harry.

The monster picked up the other rifle and scanned for the "targets" he had previously sparred. The heat from the flames interfered with his vision partially but he simply tuned that part of the spectrum out. One of the "bad eggs" rushed out of his tent, carrying his little son. His wife and daughters were still inside. Harry took aim and squeezed, not caring one bit about hitting the boy. He missed and the bullet hit the ground in front of the man who tripped as a result. Harry reloaded quickly and when the man stood up, Harry nailed him. The wife ran out of the burning tent by that time, dragging her daughters. The oldest daughter grabbed the boy's hand.

Harry spotted the sheik's wife. She didn't understand what was happening and the note which seemed to be from her husband was puzzling but she seemed to be keeping a cool head. She carried the weapons Harry had left for her and directed the scared people. A man approached her angrily - he didn't like her giving orders. He barked at her to be silent and threatened to knock her lights out. She raised her revolver at him and cocked the hammer. Another men joined the first and aimed his musket at the woman. It was quite a distance but Harry put a bullet in him still. He didn't have much hands-on experience with firearms but he ingested enough knowledge in that area. In the end, it was all about muscle control and he had a superhuman amount of it. When Harry's target fell, the late sheik's wife wasted no time and gunned down the first man.

Harry fired two more bullets but then the distance grew too great. It was time to leave and head for his final destination. He hoped that he didn't make a mistake by sparing all those people and that they weren't somehow going to alarm the syndicate. He wondered whether the sheik's wife was going to handle the situation in which he had put her. Wondered, not hoped.

Harry approached his destination next day. There was plenty of time till sunset so he kept his distance and observed. Everything seemed normal so far. The leaders of the syndicate were arriving one by one and each of them brought his own group of henchmen. As the day progressed, a small army amassed in the ancient city and under it.

Harry thought that he spotted the CIA agent in late afternoon. It was quite far however so he couldn't be sure. It seemed improbable that it could be anybody else though.

When night fell, Harry begun his operation. The whole place was very vertically oriented which meant that he had an advantage.

A human infiltrator would have two options regarding the men under the mountain. One was to sneak past them or to dispose of them (to be honest, the latter wasn't a realistic option for a normal infiltrator). However, Harry had a third option. He didn't have to approach the city from below, he could simply scale the rocks in which it was carved and infiltrate it from above. It was as simple as walking for him.

Harry decided to do just that but he didn't like the idea of leaving so many potential threats "behind his back". He had to thin their numbers first and possibly create a diversion. They were divided into several small camps and one bigger one. It seemed like people from different tribes and cells preferred to keep away from the others. Each camp had a fire and a vehicle or more parked next to it. There were also guards patrolling the space between the camps.

Harry killed any guards he could and hid their bodies. He ate his last victim's brain and read his memory of the last hour. It was confirmed, the agent was truly there.

He approached the camp to which his latest "informant" belonged, carrying the body with him. His three comrades were warming themselves up by the fire. One of them amused himself by taking gasoline in his mouth and spitting it into the fire. The camp wasn't in a line of sight of any other camp and there were no guards in vicinity. Harry killed them all before they could as much as scream. He partially extinguished the fire by water. He loaded all four corpses in a Jeep and drove away.

He passed the main camp. Half of the men in there noticed the leaving car. They couldn't see it well but they heard it. Harry didn't know what was their take on it but there were no signs of pursuit.

He crashed the car gently about a kilometre away. He opened the hood and saw that everything was more or less intact. He pulled at the fuel supply hose until the fuel started to drip. He closed the hood again and grabbed a reserve canister. He doused all the bodies, the brainless one especially, and set them on fire. He didn't know whether the flames were going to reach the tank and cause an explosion but it didn't matter.

Harry went straight up from his current position. His path became almost vertical soon but that didn't matter to him in the least. After all, he was able to crawl on ceilings. He turned towards the city when he reached a sufficient height. It appeared on his left (the planet's "down") soon enough. It was less than ten minutes after he had set the Jeep on fire.

There were fires, torches, and electrical lights in the city. Guards were patrolling paths and dwellings. Harry crawled lower and tried to see some centre of it all. He hoped that the leaders were meeting somewhere near the top of the city but it didn't seem that it was the case. He knew from the sheik's memories that the city had large internal spaces in the rock. Some of them were natural caves, others were excavated. They formed a sort of an "underground" for the city. Only they weren't under it but on the same height level as the city.

After some deliberation, Harry concluded that he needed to eliminate the enemy presence in the city. Quietly, of course. It was possible for him to sneak past them, yes, but that could turn into a disadvantage later. He didn't know if it was possible for them to block all exits if he was discovered while inside the underground but he didn't wish to risk it.

He started just like in the camp bellow by killing anybody who was alone. He made sure to hide all bodies properly. More people split from their groups for one reason or another while Harry worked but there wasn't enough of those so he started to attack pairs as well. That was trickier. The problem wasn't in killing two people at the same time, the problem was to make it look like human work. He couldn't just stab one guy with his tail while tearing the other apart with his claws - that would generate suspicious injuries. Simply grabbing a guy in each hand and strangling them wasn't an option either because somebody could alarm the others by discharging a gun before dying.

Luckily, Harry's victims had enough cold weapons on themselves. He selected two large combat knives. They allowed him to kill two people simultaneously, quickly, and in a way which wasn't suspicious. The downside was that he was leaving bloodstains. Harry tried to mitigate that by wiping them with a rag.

Five minutes later, something started to happen. There wasn't an actual alarm but the guards became alarmed nonetheless. Harry feared that one of the bodies was discovered but then he eavesdropped on one man telling another what was happening. The men from the encampment had informed the men in the city that there were people missing. Fortunately for Harry, they were leaning towards a belief that it was some kind of a treachery from inside, rather than a real attack from an outside force. It was yet another lesson for Harry - he should have targeted men from a specific cell or a tribe to support the idea that it was a treachery.

Harry decided not to linger. After all, there was one factor which could lead the guards to an assumption that it was a real attack from an actual enemy. That factor was the presence of the American who was naturally mistrusted. Harry was sure that a discovery of any of the bodies would cause an immediate logical leap to an idea that the agent had brought special forces to wipe them out.

Harry found an entrance to the underground in one of the dwellings. There was some kind of a "cellar" followed by a long narrow corridor. Harry smelled two men in there. They were sitting in a small widening of the corridor and played cards in a light of a petroleum lamp. The corridor wasn't high enough for Harry to crawl above their heads. The only option was to rush them and hope they weren't going to react quickly enough. He was lucky and managed to kill them both (with his knives) before they could shout. He pondered what to do with the bodies. Leaving them there was as good of an option as dragging them back to the surface. He merely put the light out and continued.

He spent five more minutes by searching the tunnels. So far, he had no luck in determining where was the meeting taking place. In the meantime, the Jeep was discovered and people from the outside came to tell the men inside to be on their guard. Harry cursed. The diversion with the Jeep turned against him. He didn't expect that it was all going to take so long. Unfortunately, he couldn't just "read" somebody.

That thought gave him a pause. Was it really necessary for him to penetrate someone's skull to read his memory? He grabbed a lone guard and disarmed him. He held him in front of himself by his neck and attempted a telepathic connection. It didn't work. Harry snapped the man's neck, there was no time for experiments.

Time ran out when somebody discovered a body. There was an alarm. Anger flashed through Harry. He was so close! Alas, it was inadvisable to take any chances. What if somebody saw him and managed to get away?

Harry was searching for a way out when he discovered an unusual concentration of enemies in one of the hallways leading deeper into the mountain. It was wide and high and its front half was slightly up-slope. Its upper half was flat and it was used as a sort of a storage area. Harry could feel cold, damp air coming from the space behind the hallway. He guessed that it meant natural caves.

A group of men was stationed there. They were waiting for their enemies to come from Harry's direction. It meant that they considered the area behind their backs as safe. The whole thing also meant that the area behind them was important. It was ironic that he found what he was looking for at a moment when he needed to get out.

In a split of a second, Harry overruled his previous decision. Maybe the situation called for a bit of wisdom, maybe it was reckless. Alas, it was more important to make decisions quickly.

He was clinging to a ceiling at the moment. He decided to crawl above the heads of the men. It was a bit risky because the men in the upper part of the hallway needed to raise their eyes only a little to see him. Harry concluded that the risk was acceptable and he could always kill everybody in there, even if it meant causing unnatural injuries.

The paradox was, it wasn't one of the upper men who caused his discovery. A small piece of rock came loose and fell down on one of the men in the lower part. He looked up and saw the monster. He froze up and was utterly unable to do anything. Harry heard that he stopped breathing and turned his head a little to see down.

The jig was up, he had to use brute force. He dropped down and killed the man before he touched the floor. Two more fell victim to his claws and tail. It took about four seconds before the men in the higher parts of the hallway opened fire. Harry grabbed last man from the lower part and held him in front of him as a shield. He charged forward, slashing his tail left and right at the enemies. No one thought to run.

The commander of the men stood higher than anybody else, at the spot where the floor levelled out. He couldn't believe his eyes but what he did next was an embodiment of quick thinking. And of absolute coldness as well. He kicked down a barrel of diesel fuel (which was there for an electric generator). Less then a second later, he fired a grenade at it from his under-barrel attachment. He dropped to the floor immediately but he was still caught by the explosion.

The barrel exploded in a ball of flames. Being underground, they spread at a high speed. Harry saw that even he wasn't able to outran them. His brain went into overdrive. It was almost as if time slowed down for him. He thought about his time back on the island, after he had killed the previous leader of the cartel. He touched his magic back them.

The outer layers of his carapace were made of polarized silicon. Flame contained a certain amount of ions and Harry remembered a video of a candle flame being split into two by an electric field. What if he channelled his magic into his carapace and increased the polarisation? Alas, that would deflect only half of the hot gasses. Something more was needed.

Harry returned back to present. He dropped to the floor, folding his limbs and coiling his tail. He polarized his carapace on his back. When the flames enveloped him, he used his magic to cool down the exposed parts of his body and transfer the excess heat into the rock under him.

When the flames died down, Harry saw that the creator of the whole inferno was still alive (though in shock from burns which covered almost his entire body). Harry penetrated his skull and sucked his latest memories. Then he threw the corpse on a burning crate with supplies.

Harry ran into the caves. Time was of the essence. For all he knew, the cartel leaders believed that the agent had betrayed them. He didn't wish him to die. At least not before he reached him.

Harry's fears weren't unfounded. As a matter of fact, the agent was disarmed already by that point. When the cartel leaders heard the shooting and the explosion, one of them looked at the others, drew his handgun, and said, "We knew that you would betray us sooner or later."

He shot the agent in his lung. They probably didn't want to kill their captive yet. To the agent's credit, he did his best not to show any pain. He knew that he had at least an hour of painful dying before him. He tried not to think about it.

He heard more shooting and shouting. Echoing blood-curdling screams followed. The man who had shot him before returned and aimed his gun at his (the agent's) head. Both men heard some angry snarling. The agent couldn't turn his head but the cartel leader did. Just like many before him, he froze from horror. A spiked tail went through his chest, lifted him, and threw him away.

The agent was having trouble concentrating but he saw the monster enter his darkening vision. He couldn't believe his own eyes. He was convinced that he was hallucinating because the films couldn't be possibly true. He didn't defend himself when the monster picked him up and carried him away. He passed out.

Harry needed to go deeper into the caves and loose his pursuers. While he left a few suspicious injuries in his wake, no one saw him and lived so far. That could change and he would be "unable" to flee in such case. That would be unfortunate because he intended to take his time with the agent's memories.

Harry reached an underground river and followed it for a minute. He had to climb down in some places and was quite sure that their pursuers wouldn't follow them. There was nothing to be done for the agent other then to end his suffering.

He penetrated his skull as gently as possible and started to eat. Everything from the agent's birth, through his education, his training, and career. Some time later, Harry retracted his inner jaw. He was impressed, he had to admit that. It was going to take time to process all that knowledge and learn how to use it effectively. Harry hoped that he wasn't going to forget anything.

He heard steps and voices of search parties somewhere upstream. As he expected, they didn't think that anybody could be downstream. Harry carried the body of the agent further down the river.

He had two options. He could either head back upward and face his pursuers or he could continue down and see where the river was going to surface. He decided to go down. After all, he could always return.

There were places where the way seemed to be blocked but Harry was always able to swim through. Finally, he reached the point where the river surfaced.

He returned to the encampment under the mountain. It was empty. All the tracks led to the city. Harry followed.

There were fewer guards in the city than the first time he had arrived there. The rest of them were probably inside. He eliminated all enemy presence on the surface.

Harry considered re-entering the underground when he found a crate of explosives in one of the cellars. He prepared enough bombs and set them all to explode at the same time. He placed them in entrances to the underground and ran. They exploded just when he reached a safe distance. The city collapsed in some places. He was wondering if it was enough but then an avalanche of rocks and stones started to fall from the mountain. It probably was enough.

* * *

The soldier put last spark plug in its place. He was still without a radio but he wasn't about to wait for his mysterious captor. He closed the hood and walked to the driver's seat. He was starting to rejoice at the prospect of getting out of there.

Suddenly, he froze. There was a letter on the seat. He looked around but no one was there. He took it and started to read.

 _I see that you have retrieved your spark plugs. Congratulations. I'm sure you would like to hear what happened last night. There was meeting of the entire committee of the cartel. Our friend from CIA was present as well.  
Interrogation of one of the targets you gave me revealed that he was mistrusted. I decided to observe the meeting. Once there, I discovered that the cartel intended to cease their cooperation with CIA by killing their representative. I could have prevented that but it would have required me to reveal myself to the agent. I wasn't willing to do that because there was no telling what his reaction would have been. So I opted to wait till the last moment. I managed to "save" him but only when he was already fatally wounded. I told him who I was and what was I doing here. After sharing our intelligence, he admitted that his approach wouldn't have succeeded. To prove that I'm telling the truth, he gave me his key before dying: 757BV9O98. As for the cartel, all their leaders are dead as well as their henchmen.  
Now, I have a little favour to ask from you. There's a group of refugees heading your way. Their leader knows the exact location of the parts I took from your radio. In return, you can tell her that her husband is dead. They'll tell you more about their situation. I don't propose that you should take them to America but there are many communities outside of this region which could harbour them. Kurds, for example.  
As for myself, I don't think you need to worry about me interfering with your operations in future. I have achieved everything this exercise was supposed to achieve. We shall present the results to concerned people. What happens next isn't in our hands. _

The soldier finished the letter and looked around again. He thought that he spotted something on the horizon. He grabbed his binoculars and took a better look. There were people. Some walked, some rode on camels. A while later, he noticed that the group consisted mostly of women and children.

"My my, what have you gotten me into again?" whispered the soldier. It seemed that he was talking to himself but the remark was actually addressed to his mysterious "friend".

* * *

The soldier returned home and gave his testimony. His only proof to support it was the last letter from Harry - all the others vanished mysteriously. CIA had no reason to believe that he was lying but they suspected that some of it was imagined. Perhaps his injury or the exposure to sun affected his memory.

The sheik's wife and most of her tribe left the region with the soldier's help and joined a Kurdish community. The difference in customs was a bit difficult for older boys but their mothers made sure to remind them that they were free to leave. The sheik's wife advised her people not to try to instil their old culture in the younger children. It was a good idea and in a few years, those children became undistinguishable from normal Kurds. Many of the older ones joined Peshmerga. The wife herself married an American documentarist several year later. She never told him some of the stranger details of the night when her husband had died. Not that it would have mattered with all that was starting to go on by that time.

The cartel fell apart and never reunited. Not that it was such a good thing. The region became even more lawless and was ravaged by conflicts between various factions. Just as predicted, neighbouring cartels started to grow into the created vacuum.

As for Harry, he headed straight for Pacific ocean as soon as he delivered his last letter. He had exposed himself way more than he had intended and needed to lay low for a few years. He also needed time to process the agent's knowledge. But he was sure that he needed to return one day. As he submerged himself into the depths of the ocean, he was planning his next adventure already.


	3. Homecoming

Homecoming

Rita Skeeter was patient. Slowly and surely, she gathered information from the neighbours and anybody else who knew Harry and the Dursleys. She often heard that Harry had been a troublemaker. A bad boy. She found it interesting but it was clear to her that she couldn't write that angle in the current situation. Hence, she had to dig deeper.

It took her some effort but she managed to secure an assistance of a weak mind reader. Luckily, her boss supported her endeavour.

They found out soon enough that those who could shed most light on the matter were dead. The Dursleys themselves, neighbours on both sides, and the squib who had been supposed to watch over Potter. All dead. That meant that they had to do with what little they were able to get.

Rita Skeeter decided to take a look at his teachers. They tracked down Mrs. Hutchinson. She transferred to another school after the incident. While the wizard helping Rita wasn't a skilful reader, he could tell that her memory was useless. She was one of those people who were quite capable when it came to lying to themselves to make themselves feel better. Her mental image of Harry matched what Rita had heard so far. Fortunately, her memory of the incident told them where to look next.

The headmaster was still a headmaster at Harry's old school. His thoughts revealed that Harry had claimed that he was being abused. The headmaster believed that Harry had been in contact with some gangsters and that it was those who killed all those people in exchange for him joining them. He wondered why would they need him but he had to admit that Harry was bright for his age, just not in the right directions.

They approached the physics teacher last. Thoughts of both previous subjects pointed at him and he was also singular in regards to his testimony for police. He had retired after the incident and was working on a new textbook about ray optics.

He didn't wish to speak with them at first, especially when he found out that they were reporters. The mind reader saw that the teacher didn't like Harry being portrayed as a troublemaker and a suspect. They assured him that it wasn't their angle and that they suspected that Harry had been abused. The teacher started to talk and his thoughts became easier to read as a result.

He considered Harry to be exceptionally intellectual, probably because of his introversion. After the incident he had realized that his introversion had been caused by the isolation created by the Dursleys. He didn't have any solid theories about what had happened but he imagined that Harry had sought refuge with Mrs. Figg where he was found by Vernon Dursley. The teacher could imagine that Vernon had gotten in a fight with Mrs. Figg and killed her accidentally. He didn't dare to guess what had occurred after Vernon dragged Harry back to Privet Drive but he suspected the neighbours must had gotten curious about all that racket.

Rita Skeeter was flabbergasted by the results of her investigation. The official story claimed that it had been a work of dark wizards. What if the only wizard involved had been Harry Potter himself? What if he had been defending himself and his accidental magic flared? Rita knew that she couldn't go out with such wild accusations without some proof.

She decided to search for anybody else who could possibly know anything more about the Dursleys and their treatment of Harry. None of their friends (such as the Polkiss family) knew anything. It took months before she found out that Vernon Dursley had a sister and tracked her down. She turned out to be a golden mine.

They visited Marge and pretended to investigate Harry's part in Dursleys' deaths. She was more than glad to tell them what a bad egg Harry had been and she didn't spare his parents either. Rita Skeeter took it all in stride but her colleague had troubles controlling himself, especially thanks to all that he was seeing in her mind while she was talking.

When he relayed everything to her after the visit, Rita Skeeter was ecstatic. That was going to sink Dumbledore! She summarized her findings and brought it all to her boss. Marge was reported to the Ministry of Magic, she needed to be investigated on an official authority. They planned to publish their story as soon as she was interviewed by Aurors.

Rita Skeeter returned to her flat that evening and dropped on a sofa, finally feeling the weight of the last year. Its second half especially. It wasn't over yet, not by a long-shot. She stood up, walked to a cupboard, and retrieved a bottle of wine. She wanted to pour herself a glass but then she went to the bathroom first. She wanted to freshen herself up and change her clothes.

"Do you mind if I pour myself a glass too?" asked Dumbledore when she returned. "I've taken a liberty of uncorking it already."

Rita shrieked. Albus Dumbledore was sitting at her table, pouring a second glass of wine.

"What are you doing here?!"

"The door was unlocked. Please, sit down."

"What do you want?" demanded Rita and remained standing.

Albus sighed and replaced the cork. "Would you please relax and have some wine? It's your own, after all. Now, I've come to tell you that Marge Dursley has been moved. For her own protection. Being Harry Potter's last surviving relative puts her in certain danger, as you can surely imagine. Especially when there are people who are willing to track her down and write about her in newspaper."

"Don't make me laugh. She hated the boy and knew all about the abuse. And she would never cooperate with you."

"Well, we managed to persuade her. As for the rest, I have no idea what are you talking about. Now, I have to admit that she might hold some grudge against Harry for what happened to her brother but that was to be expected."

"We'll see what are people going to think."

"Don't be naive. Your boss won't print anything without evidence. Fortunately, you are fairly new and unknown in the world of journalism. No one will believe your story."

Rita was about to retort but Dumbledore raised his hand and interrupted her. "But enough of this. Obviously, there was no need for me to come here. Your boss would tell you all of this himself tomorrow. I've come to make you an offer."

Rita made no answer.

"As you might know, I taught the boy who has become known as Voldemort later," continued Dumbledore. "Just like you, he was bright and hard working. Unfortunately, he directed his talents in a wrong direction. He followed his desire for power and fame without regard for those who found themselves in his way. It taught me one thing: Weeds need to be sorted out when they are still young. Imagine how different our recent history would have been if Tom Riddle had been steered away from his path. You aren't planning to become a dark lord but I see that if I allow you to go unchecked and rise, your influence will become just as damaging."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I'm making you an offer. You've displayed some qualities when tracking Marge down. Including an ability to blend in the muggle world, which is commendable. Those qualities could be used in searching for Harry Potter, if he's still alive. I'm also sure that you can be useful in future as a journalist as well. Believe me, dark times are ahead of us."

"You must be joking."

"I'm completely serious. You could do some good for our society for a change. You might even find it nice."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then there will be no reason for you to remember this conversation. Of course, we'll have to keep an eye on you. For example, your boss might want to reconsider your continued employment. After all, you've just wasted almost an entire year of your time, not to mention the payments for your mind reader.

"I see."

Dumbledore nodded.

"I need to use the bathroom," said Rita.

"By all means."

She attempted to apparate first. It didn't work. There was only one option, something she had been working on for some time. She cracked a window open and concentrated. She had never managed to finish her transformation before.

"Miss Skeeter?" called Dumbledore.

She changed into a beetle and flew outside. Several minutes later, Dumbledore entered the bathroom and saw that she was gone.

Rita Skeeter changed back when she was a safe distance away. She wanted to talk to her boss but she knew that Dumbledore was right. They couldn't print anything without Marge. Still, Rita wasn't willing to surrender easily. There was only one option (albeit imperfect) - Xenophilius Lovegood.

* * *

It was two years after Harry's adventure with the drug cartel. He broke surface of water in a lagoon at a coast of Little Cayman. It was a middle of night and it was almost new moon. Still he looked around carefully before he leapt out of the water, scaled a very low rock in front of him, and ran into bushes.

His goal was a certain man. A banker. Harry had learned about him from the agent's memories. The agent had never met the man personally but he dealt with him once. He preferred Switzerland or Monaco usually but Cayman Islands were becoming an alternative.

Harry thought about exploiting the agent's private assets before coming to Cayman Islands. However, there was a danger that some of those weren't entirely private. Harry didn't wish to be linked to the deceased agent in any way. As for what kind of business he had with a shady banker - well, he had certain uncertain plans and he wanted to be prepared for every eventuality.

Harry progressed to the banker's last known residence. It was supposed to be a smallish "cottage" near beach. He found it easily but figured out soon enough that somebody else lived there. It was a young family which was in tourist business.

Harry had a dilemma. The simplest thing to do was what he did best (suck their brains). However, there was no guarantee that they knew where the previous owner moved to and he wanted to limit his kill count on Cayman Islands to one to avoid attention. That left him with a fleeting chance that the banker was still somewhere on the island.

He decided to search the island. It wasn't that big and he had all the time in the world. And if he wasn't there, he was surely on one of the other islands.

It took a few nights before he came across a house which seemed out of place to him. It was more inland and on a higher ground. A quick survey revealed that Harry was at the right place.

The house was solid and while it wasn't overtly luxurious, it was certainly nice. It seemed like his target was doing well in the last three years. The place was also more equipped for work. The man had preferred to conduct his shadier dealings off-site even during his cooperation with the agent. It seemed like he retained the practice.

The banker was fast asleep in the master bedroom. A beautiful mulatto was lying next to him. Harry didn't know whether she was his wife or his mistress but he reckoned that there was no point in killing her.

Using the smooth upper side of his claw, he tickled the man under his nose. The man snorted, rubbed the place with his hand, and woke up. He tried to get back to sleep but gave up after a minute and went to a bathroom because he need to pee. Harry was waiting on the ceiling. As soon as the man finished, Harry's hand landed on his face, blocking his nose and mouth and covering his eyes. Harry apprehended the banker's head with his outer jaw and thrust his inner jaw in the back of his head. Memories and information streamed in.

Harry's assumptions about the man were confirmed. He worked as an external co-worker for his bank. He acted as a middleman, providing services for questionable customers away from the bank and coming there only to finalize transactions or when he needed a network connection.

Harry wrapped the man's head in a shirt and dragged him away. He went to his study and turned on a computer. As soon as the boot-loader switched to OS a password prompt for disk decryption appeared. It was an interesting feature. It was similar to "classic" dual-password encryption (one to unlock, other to seemingly unlock) but with a twist: Providing the fake password erased (and overwrote) any secret partitions. Dual-password encryption itself wasn't very widespread yet but this was a whole new level.

Harry unlocked the disk successfully and logged in after a while. The computer wasn't able to operate in a graphical mode like those fancy Macintosh machines from Apple but that didn't matter. He accessed the banker's secret files. Using a keyboard was a little bit awkward. He typed using only two claws. He wrapped their tips with cloth to prevent leaving scratch marks.

Over next hour, he compiled a list clandestine accounts to which he had access. Agents, terrorists, drug lords - all sorts of people were working with the banker. He also needed to open a new Swiss account for himself. There was probably a telephone somewhere nearby but he couldn't use it - not even if he changed into a human (his contact would tell by his voice that he wasn't the banker). Hence, he required a network connection. Luckily, the bank had one and he needed to get inside anyway.

Done with his work for the moment, Harry needed to store it somewhere. He opened a drawer and found a stack of floppy disks. He selected two which looked newest. He packed his files and copied the archive on the disks, twice on each.

Guided by the memories of the banker, Harry found a magnetic ID card and a small case. It contained several compartments, each containing a small amount of cash from a different country. There were American dollars, British pounds, Swiss francs, Germans marks, and more. There were no Cayman Islands dollars, the banker kept those in his ordinary wallet probably. Harry took most of the pounds and some Swiss francs.

Something was needed to protect it all from seawater. He found a sturdy plastic box just big enough for the two floppy disks and the card. He thought about sealing it using his acid but then he used candle wax. The banknotes were trickier. He found a slim fanny pack meant for carrying such things but it wasn't waterproof. Harry put the money in a sturdy plastic bag, pushed all the air out, and fastened it with scotch tape. He put the result in another bag and repeated the process. He attempted to seal the bags as tightly as possible each time.

Harry also took some keys from a drawer and dose of laxative powder from the bathroom.

The banker's mistress (who was named Teresa) was still asleep. Harry left her a note saying that he was going to be gone for a few days. He knew that the banker was gone like that often. He hoped that she wasn't going to notice that the handwriting was strange.

He grabbed the dead body and ran to a shore. Once he was a sufficient distance away from Little Cayman, he tore the head off and put some stones in it. He located a group of sharks afterwards and tore the body in two pieces. There was a current which was bound to bring the smell of blood to them. He headed to Grand Cayman at full speed.

It was two hours after midnight when Harry scaled a cliff at a coast of Grand Cayman. He progressed to the bank, avoiding a few people who were outside for one reason or another.

He observed the bank from a tree for a while. It was just one building and not very big to boot. However, it had a perimeter around itself in a form of a brick wall. There was a lawn about three meters wide but that varied on each side. The wall on the front side was lower and somewhat more presentable. In the middle of it was an ornate gate behind which was the main entrance to the building. There was no wall on the right, only a chain-link fence. There was a private parking lot and a service access behind it.

The perimeter was patrolled by guards. There were no cameras on the outer wall but there was plenty of them on the building. Every inch of the lawn between the wall and the building was monitored. Harry circled around and tried to look for a way through the parking lot but the situation was even worse there. There was only one option - he had to jump over a field of vision of one of the cameras.

Harry moved behind the bank and picked a good spot. Once the coast was clear, he took a running start, scaled the wall and jumped. He flew over the lawn and landed softly above a camera. He climbed to the roof.

A guard was having a cigar break there. The door to the stairs didn't have a handle on the outer side but it was propped by an empty shoebox to prevent it from closing. Harry slid inside silently.

The dead banker didn't have his own office in the building but there was a computer room to which he had access. Harry went there, using his senses to avoid detection. He unlocked the door with one of the keys he had taken from the house and entered.

There were two computer terminals. A timetable was hanging on the wall with reservations for next day. Employees had to take turns to use a computer. As a matter of fact, Harry could tell that somebody had left the room recently. Somebody was probably using the night-time to either do some work without having to hurry or to use one of the machines for a personal pet project (such as learning how to program in Fortran or Lisp).

The bank had got two servers, both of them were housed in the building. Their relationship was such that neither one of them was primary or secondary, at least when it came to importance. The main one filled an auxiliary function actually. It was meant for everyday use and was connected to the outside. Most computers were connected to it, including the two machines in the room. The other server was the "important one" or rather the more secure one. It was connected to the main server but it was behind a narrow permissive firewall (only certain packets were allowed, the rest was implicitly forbidden) and the connection was activated only once per day at a specific time for a limited period. It was located in a secure area (hence the magnetic card), just like the only two terminals connected to it. Its purpose was to store all transactions. Any out-coming transactions had to be inserted into it by authorized personnel after receiving all the necessary paperwork from a clerk or an account manager.

Harry turned one of the workstations on. It was a different machine than the one in the house - it had a graphical interface. Harry logged in. He knew that the main server logged his access. It was a part of his plan but he wondered whether somebody was going to find it strange that nobody saw the banker enter the building.

Harry wrote an email to a colleague of his in Switzerland, asking him to open a new account. He signed the message with his electronic signature (to prove that it was from him and that the text wasn't tempered with) and encrypted the whole thing with his contact's public key (to ensure that only the recipient was going to be able to read it). It was marked as important and it was morning in Switzerland already so he was sure that it was going to be done soon.

Having time to spend, Harry inserted one of the floppy disks and unpacked his files. He continued in his work which he had begun in the house and prepared transaction orders. He drained smaller ones completely but diverted only small portions of larger ones. He had one advantage - none of the accounts had anything to do with each other. The other people in the bank weren't even going to be able to tell that they shared the same manager (it was like that on purpose). He didn't have a number of the destination account yet so he wrote a script to fill it automatically in all of them later. He looked around the room and found more floppy disks in a cupboard. He took two and formatted them.

Harry wasn't about to sit idly while waiting for a word from Switzerland so he logged off and left the room. His next destination was far more secure - the other server. As stated, the dead banker had access in there. Once again, his employers wanted him to be able to do certain things by himself.

The only problem was that the entrance was guarded. His ability to crawl on a ceiling wasn't going to do him any good - there was only one entrance and the guard would notice the door opening. There was a ventilation but Harry had no chance of fitting in there, neither as a monster nor as a human. Moreover, he needed to use a key which was stored in the guard booth.

Harry had to make the guard leave for an extended period of time. The guard was reading newspaper and drinking coffee. Harry spotted a lunch-box aside. It had contained the guard's dinner but it was empty at the moment. Judging by the smell, he finished eating about an hour earlier. That was perfect. Crawling on the ceiling, Harry crept over the guard's field of vision. Then, without making a sound, he crept down again and towards the cup of coffee. If the man had looked up from his paper, he would have seen the monster. Very carefully, Harry opened the dose of laxative and poured it in the coffee, using his claw to stir.

He left the same way he had gotten there and returned to the computer room. He checked "his" mailbox and was glad to see an incoming mail. He decrypted it using "his" private key. The new account was opened. He memorized its number. He used his script to fill it in all the prepared transaction orders and copied them on the two prepared floppy disks. He returned back to the entrance of the secure server area.

The guard was gone. Harry was able to smell him from nearest toilets. He took the right key and inserted it in the door. He inserted the card in a device next to the door and punched his PIN in a keyboard. He turned the key and the door unlocked. He held it open with his tail and returned the key.

He went to one of the two terminals and logged in using the banker's other login and password. He inserted a floppy disk and transferred the transaction orders. There was a flaw in his plan. All the orders had the same time-stamp of input. That was the only thing they had in common. Harry hoped that nobody was going to investigate further until it was to late.

There was nothing more to be done. Harry left the building. It was high time because sunrise was near. He swam east to Dominican Republic where he hoped to catch a ship to Europe. Latching onto its hull was certainly faster than swimming.

* * *

It was Sunday afternoon a few weeks later. An upper-middle class family was leaving their weekend cottage and returning to London. Harry watched their car until it disappeared behind a ridge. He waited for half an hour, in case they returned for something. It was still light so he scouted around before he sneaked onto the property.

He broke one of the windows and entered the cottage. The owners were going to consider it a case of breaking and entering. He put his fanny bag with money on a table - he was going to take care of those later.

There were two children in the family: an older son and a younger daughter. Harry found a wardrobe with some spare clothes. He hoped that the boy's clothes would fit him. He also found some non-perishable food.

Harry guessed that the family was going to return on Friday. He had enough time but not an unlimited amount of it so it was ill advised to tarry. He stood in front of a mirror and concentrated, trying to find again that string inside of himself which he had found two years ago.

He gave up after a while and opened the bag with money. He tore the plastic bags open. The bills were only damp, not soaked through. That was good. He laid them out at a place where a draft wasn't going to scatter them.

He returned to the mirror and continued in his effort. It was night already when he succeeded - a boy was standing in front of the mirror. There was a substantial size difference from what he remembered. It seemed that any growth he had undergone in the past three years translated to his human form. He also looked older than nine years old.

Another thing Harry noticed was his nakedness. That didn't surprise him. He would be surprised if he had tatters of his old clothes on him. After all, he had been shedding his carapace just like humans were shedding skin.

Harry cleaned himself up and found some clothes, making sure to select the most worn ones, just in case they were going to get destroyed in his experiments. Once clothed, he checked the money and laid them out better. Then he fixed himself a snack and ate it.

After some time, he returned to the mirror and changed back. It was as simple as blinking. He went to sleep in his monstrous form.

Next morning, he changed into a human again. He managed to do it faster than before but it wasn't any easier and it most certainly wasn't natural. That was good. The monster was his natural form. The human one was merely useful. Sometimes.

He noted that his clothes were still on him this time around. That was convenient. Harry guessed that it was a part of his magic which he shared with normal wizards. He didn't know how far it extended and what else could be taken into his monstrous form but he figured out that it would be better not to change the money into a part of his carapace. After all, even a slight abrasion could have a disastrous effect on the banknotes.

He walked out of the cottage and looked around. The world seemed strange when viewed by his human senses. As if it lost all its colour and lustre. A little bit of his improved hearing and smell carried on to his human form but he didn't realize it. His motor coordination was somewhat clunky but it wasn't so bad thanks to his monstrous form being humanoid too.

Harry fetched water and cooked himself some soup. It couldn't compare to a brain but it was warm.

The banknotes were dry. Harry found a thick book and put the banknotes between its pages. He put something on top of it to weight it down.

He thought about his plans. One option was to travel at night in his natural form. However, that represented a certain risk of being seen. Remaining human and simply taking a train was far more convenient. Moreover, he needed to learn how to blend in. Reading it from the agent's memories was one thing. Taking that knowledge into praxis was another.

He spent next few days getting used to his human form. He didn't need to change back to reassure himself that he still could. The monster was right there, in the back of his brain. He could feel that he could change to his normal form any time he wanted.

He practised some self defence techniques which he had learned from the agent. The biggest challenge was to remember that he didn't have claws, tail, and jaws. He found a concealable knife and practised various techniques.

On Thursday, Harry changed to better clothes and left the cottage. He walked to a nearby village where he easily found a train station. When he purchased a ticket to Little Whinging, the old man who sold it to him wondered whether he was truly travelling alone but he didn't say anything.

An hour later, Harry disembarked at his destination. He went to his old school and waited. It was late afternoon when his old headmaster walked out and headed for his home. Harry wasn't surprised that he had not resigned over the incident. He followed him.

The headmaster lived in a small house not too far from the school. That's why he didn't use a car even though he owned one. Harry took his bag with money off and changed into a monster. He didn't believe that the bag would get caught in the change but he didn't want to risk anything.

When the headmaster left next morning, Harry sneaked into his house. He lived alone but there were photos of his family around. It seemed that he was divorced. However, further searching revealed that he was supposed to spend the weekend with his sons. He was going to pick them up from London right after returning from school next day. It seemed like they were going to a fishing trip in Scotland afterwards.

Harry found a car key in kitchen and went to check the garage. True enough, fishing gear was in the trunk already. Stricken by a sudden idea, Harry unlocked the car and returned the key. He got in the car and locked it from inside. It was a long shot but there was a chance that the headmaster wasn't going to check the trunk before leaving. He hid in there.

The headmaster returned from work. Harry heard him scurrying around the house. He entered the garage after a while and drove out. He closed the garage and went to the house again. He returned in a moment and dropped a bag on the back seat. Harry was in luck, he didn't look in the trunk. Not that it mattered much. The headmaster locked his house, sat behind the wheel, and drove off

A quarter hour later, Harry decided to act. He looked around subtly and saw that traffic around was as light as it gets on Friday afternoon. He climbed out of the trunk.

The headmaster leaned back in his seat. He let go of the wheel by one hand and put it over co-driver's headrest.

"What a hell!" he exclaimed and retracted his hand again.

His fingers were covered by some kind of a slimy goo. He heard some strange snarling from behind so he looked back over his shoulder. He started to scream and lost control of the car which veered off the road.

Harry held on firmly by all his limbs. All four of them, he didn't use his tail. The car rolled over during the crash but it wasn't anything that the monster wouldn't be able to handle. The headmaster didn't fare so well and hit his head on the steering wheel. The car stopped moving an remained on its roof.

Harry moved closer to the man and found a bruised spot on his head. He penetrated his skull but he didn't eat his entire brain - that would be suspicious. Harry went through memories following his escape from Privet Drive.

There was only one memory which seemed interesting and which Harry remembered. It was the memory of meeting Rita Skeeter and her companion. It seemed like somebody was investigating him. Maybe some reporter who had heard about the Privet Drive incident and decided to write about it?

Something seemed odd about those two people. Harry distanced himself from the headmaster's subjective perception of the meeting and examined it objectively. That was when he noticed it. Ms. Skeeter's companion had not said anything and merely observed the headmaster. Sometimes, there was a change in his facial expression. The headmaster barely noticed it and thought nothing of it but Harry noticed that those changes correlated with the headmaster's thoughts. When he thought about Harry as a lying miscreant, the man frowned. When he himself was lying, the man's face displayed contempt. The man was telepathic and he didn't even need to eat other people's brains to do it.

There was no time to ponder about it. Harry undid the headmaster's seatbelt and smashed his head against the front window. His skull cracked. Harry got out and inspected the damage. A fuel line was loosened but no gasoline was dripping yet. Harry undid it completely. Once the puddle grew large enough, he set it on fire and ran away.

Later, when he was safely hidden, he contemplated what he had learned. It was clear to Harry that those two people had not been mundane. Was it possible that they were affiliated with that Dumbledore fellow? What reason would he have to send people to investigate? Maybe he himself didn't know how had Harry been treated? Another option was that they were unrelated to him. Harry knew that there were wizards living in Britain, hidden from eyes of the normal people. However, he didn't know anything more substantial.

One way to learn more about the two magicals was through other people who might had been approached too. His old teachers or maybe even Dudley's friend Polkiss. Then he decided against it. He wished to keep a low profile and going after more people linked to him or the Dursleys would attract Dumbledore's attention sooner or later. No, it was better to go straight to "aunt" Marge. He wagered that he would learn all he needed from her.

Harry used his human form to travel. Long distance observation of Marge's house revealed that she didn't live there any more. He searched the wider area in his monster form at night but there were no wizards hiding in ambush. He also noticed that the people living there weren't fully settled in yet. He approached the house next afternoon and rang a bell. A woman opened.

"Good afternoon," said Harry. "I'm sorry to bother you but I'm looking for Ms. Dursley. She sold us two puppies some time ago. I want to tell her how they are doing because that's what she wanted."

"Oh, I'm afraid you're too late," answered the woman. "We know that she used to live here but we've never met her."

"I see. Well, this is surprising. My father talked to her just a half a year ago. May I ask when did this happen?"

"More than a month ago, according to our neighbours."

"Would you happen to know where's she now? Has she left an address?"

"As a matter of fact, no. I found that most peculiar at first. However, no letters have arrived here for her so it wasn't a problem."

When Harry left, he thought about Marge's relocation. He found it implausible that it had been her own idea or that she left of her own volition for that matter. He didn't believe that she would leave just like that even if she was told that she was in danger. She was probably moved by wizards. Dumbledore, possibly.

Either way, he had to track her. Maybe there were wizards waiting for him near her but he doubted that it was a trap. Learning more was worth the risk. The question was, how to track her?

Harry remembered that Marge was a member of a society which organized dog shows. He doubted that she would cease her activities in the area. It was a long-shot but he travelled to their headquarters and broke into an office where they kept their records. True enough, her new address was there.

This confirmed that Marge had been moved by wizards. Normal people, police for example, would have thought about it. It was also logical to presume that Marge had been moved to hide her from wizards. Harry considered various alternatives. One of them was that Ms. Skeeter was trying to find out more about Dumbledore's actions concerning Harry. Harry was some kind of a celebrity in the magical world after all. Interviewing Marge was the simplest way to get to the truth for Ms. Skeeter. And as such, it was the place where Harry was going to go next.

He approached the area where Marge's new residence was supposed to be. He searched the area, looking for anybody who didn't belong there, anybody who was hiding in vicinity. And find somebody he did.

Holed up in a small apartment opposite from Marge's new home was a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat. He had short, bandy legs and long straggly ginger hair. He smelled of stale tobacco and booze. He was asleep at the moment and snored in a raspy, mucus-ish manner.

Harry couldn't be sure if the man was a wizard but the whole apartment seemed like a guard station. Or maybe like a stake out observatory. While the man was obviously supposed to watch Marge, Harry doubted that his real purpose was to protect her. He was probably waiting for somebody to come there. Maybe Ms. Skeeter, maybe Harry himself.

Harry had to move. He started to approach the man, focussing all his senses for any sign of treachery. He stopped when he found a definite proof that the man was a wizard. There was a very faint, barely perceivable energy field around him. If Harry had not been looking for it, he wouldn't have noticed it. It was probably some kind of a personal alarm. It was only about three meters wide.

The monster coiled up and sprung. The man woke up but he had no time to draw his wand. The monster grabbed him and thrust its inner jaw into his brain.

All things considered, it was quite a good catch. From a certain perspective, it was his richest brain ever because it told him everything he needed to know about magic and wizards. The man was named Mundungus Fletcher. He wasn't the most powerful or educated wizard around. Nor was he particularly bright. However, he possessed a special kind of cunningness and he knew his way around the magical world of Britain. And most importantly, he knew a lot of things about Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix. He had worked for Dumbledore during the war with Voldemort which secured him a certain position in the order.

Harry learned everything about the situation with Rita Skeeter but there was no time to ponder about it. He had to move fast because he wasn't sure whether he didn't trigger some alarm by killing Mundungus. He grabbed Fletcher's wand and dragged the corpse to a stove. He ripped its gas supply off and inserted it in the hole in Fletcher's skull. The stove itself was electric however. Harry found some paper, put it inside, and turned the stove on maximum.

He grabbed a kitchen knife and bounded off to Marge's house. He noted yet another ward around it. Her dogs barked for a moment before they started to whine. Harry noticed Ripper and slashed him.

Marge was awoken by all the noise. She reached over to a lamp and turned it on. When she turned back, she saw the monster. Unlike many other people, she didn't freeze but started to scream instead. Harry kept it simple and thrust his knife in her neck. He pulled it out again and stabbed her in her heart.

It was time to clear the field. He ran to a window. He heard two cracks outside, one shortly after the other. Harry saw a wizard and a witch outside, cloaked by some kind of a chameleon spell. While Harry was able to see their figures, he couldn't see their faces. He remembered their smells at least, in case he ever ran into them again.

Harry turned around and crept to a back exit. The wizard reached the house and Harry heard him whisper, "Homenum revelio." Nothing happened.

"They are gone," hissed the wizard.

The observation apartment blew up at that moment. Harry hoped that it was enough to cover Fletcher's missing brain. He didn't wait for anything and ran.


	4. Lies and Deception

Lies and Deception

Mundungus Fletcher knew much about Rita's and Dumbledore's business with each other. What he didn't know, Harry was able to fill in himself.

According to the recovered memories, Rita Skeeter had published her findings through a periodic of Xenophilius Lovegood. It was unknown how she had convinced him to print it but Harry could imagine such solutions as showing Lovegood one's memories. Either way, the article had not raised the reactions they had hoped for. The Quibbler was a young periodic and didn't have a strong fan-base yet. People who were reading it for fun didn't like Dumbledore being slandered. While many people were blaming him partially for Harry's alleged death (not that many people believed that he was truly dead), they also believed that it was a work of dark wizards and that they needed to be united. There were some (as Mundungus Fletcher had suspected) who knew the truth but those remained silent. The word had been spread at the price of the community of readers of The Quibbler shrinking.

Harry processed all this new information and considered his next course of action. He held a reasonable level of confidence in a presumption that Fletcher's head had been completely obliterated in the explosion. That should mask the fact that his brain was gone.

Then there was the wand. Fletcher had been aware of a theory that killing a wizard gave the killer control over his victim's wand. Harry transformed into a human and gave it a flick. He guessed that he could coax a reaction out of it sooner or later but he doubted that it was worth the effort. He didn't need to be able to transfigure teacups into teacup plates after all. For him, magic was something to be used as a last resort, like when he had used it to survive the flames. Moreover, there were people out there with means of detecting usage of magic. There was a certain logic in learning to use magic in his human form but he couldn't rely on a wand. He didn't know if it was possible to take it with him into his monstrous form like his clothes but he was sure that the wand would be gone after a while. He needed to be able to do without any material possessions at all. That was one of the reasons why he needed money in a bank.

Harry decided to approach Rita Skeeter. She was obviously a self-serving woman but they had a common enemy. The problem was finding her. After all, not even Dumbledore was able to do that so far. One option was to contact her through Lovegood but he wasn't sure about revealing himself to yet another person. Well, he could always kill him and blame it on Dumbledore.

Harry arrived to Ottery St. Catchpole two days later. He was in his human form. He continued on to the hills where Xeno and his daughter were living.

There weren't many houses up there but he wouldn't have a problem with recognizing the right one anyway. A tall tower looking like a giant chess-piece.

Mr. Lovegood and his daughter were in the garden at the moment. Harry approached, trying to keep a low profile. He overheard them talking.

"Why can't I play with Ginny any more?" asked the girl.

"I've told you, the Weasleys are spying on us for Dumbledore," answered the man in a tired voice. "A fat lot of good that'll do him."

"Why?"

The man didn't answer but Harry could imagine that he was thinking something along the lines, _"Here we go again."_

Harry knew from Fletcher who the Weasleys were. It seemed like the two families were at odds because of the article. That was good. At the same time, Xeno sounded like he regretted getting involved. It also seemed that Xeno didn't know where Skeeter was.

Harry thought about calling out to them but then he pushed at the front gate and it creaked open. He made his way through the strange garden towards them.

"Mr. Lovegood?" called out Harry as he was approaching.

Xeno looked up from some strange plants he was tending to and scrutinized the boy.

"I'm here in a Quibbler related matter," continued Harry. "Can we talk?" His eyes flicked to Luna.

Xeno was befuddled. He had seen a photo of James Potter. He wasn't sure what to make of the boy's resemblance.

"Go play inside," he told Luna.

She didn't argue and left.

"To be honest, my business is more with Ms. Skeeter than with you," elaborated Harry. "I have information for her but I'm sure that she will get back to you with it."

"Who are you?" asked Xeno and thought about sending the boy away.

"Are you going to ask me the opposite question as well?" asked Harry.

"The opposite question?"

"Nothing, just a veiled reference to muggle culture. The point is, I wish to remain anonymous to you. Like I've said, my business is with Ms. Skeeter."

"I can't help you," murmured Xeno, disconcerted by the boy's behaviour. "You should go."

"You worry that I could be working for Dumbledore. Maybe I could be even someone using Polyjuice Potion. And here we go back to the beginning - I do not wish to undergo any test which would reveal my identity. Alas, all I want from you is to send her a message. I suspect that she has left you with means to do so."

Xeno was hesitant.

"Come on, it's not your duty to pre-filter her appointments. Just relay my message and let her decide whether she wants to meet me."

In the end, Xeno agreed. Harry stressed that Xeno shouldn't add anything to the message and relay it in verbatim, in case it was intercepted.

A few days later, Harry found himself waiting by an entrance to an amusement park in London. Normally, he would pick a setting with less people but he was dealing with wizards. Crowds were better because it was impossible to erase their memories.

He noticed her when she was already approaching their rendezvous spot. He knew from Fletcher how did she look like so he had no trouble recognizing her. He emerged from his hideout to meet her.

"Rita Skeeter?" he addressed her and she turned to face him. "Do you know who I am?"

She was shocked to say at least (Xeno's message didn't say that she was meeting Harry Potter). She had found out during her investigation how Harry looked like, of course.

"I know like whom do you look," she replied after she regained her composure.

"And those are the trappings of magic. How can either of us be sure that the other isn't actually Dumbledore? We shall tackle that hurdle soon enough but we ought to get going first. We are becoming conspicuous here."

He motioned to her to follow him.

"Do you have any money?" he asked. "I'm talking about British currency, of course."

"No."

"Never mind, here."

Harry gave Rita a wallet.

"No one will ask probably but if it comes up, you are my aunt."

A few minutes later, Harry and Rita were walking by some kind of an attraction with a lots of small light bulbs.

"The electronics around us aren't delicate enough to be fried by magic," he commented. "However, we will be aware of any magic being performed here." He stopped and turned to his companion. "And that brings me to our problem. I'm not taking any truth serum nor am I comfortable with you performing some kind of detection magic on me. I'm not very knowledgeable in magic so I might not be able to keep up with what you would be doing."

"Then how shall we determine that we are who we are?"

"I understand that you've done quite an extensive research about me. You probably know more about me than Dumbledore. Come to think about it, it's probably one of the reasons why he wants you under his thumb."

"So we shall use the good old question asking?"

"Until I trust you more. If I ever do."

Rita thought for a moment and then she asked, "What started the events in Little Whinging three years ago?"

"That's a semi-public information but as you wish. It was my essay about movement and combat in zero gravity."

Harry asked a question in turn, then Rita asked another, and so forth. After a while, they agreed to leave further checks for later.

"What happened three years ago?" asked Rita.

"I'll have to disappoint you - you have covered it pretty well already. My magic saved my life."

"That's how the fire started?"

"No, that was me. I needed to cover my tracks. I feared that if police uncovered anything unnatural, I would be hunted down by the government and dissected alive. I decided that it was better to be considered a murderer and an arsonist than to be uncovered as a freak."

Rita didn't say anything cheesy like, "You aren't a freak!" Nor did she inquire about the exact nature of the magic which had saved Harry's life.

"And the neighbours?" she asked instead.

"I know nothing about that. Perhaps Dumbledore's work? They could testify about how I was treated, after all."

"Where did you go afterwards? How did you escape Dumbledore?"

"For that I owe my friend... No, scratch that. I don't think he trusts anybody enough to consider him a friend."

"Who?"

"Mundungus Fletcher. He's one of Dumbledore's people actually."

"Mundungus, Mundungus," pondered Rita, trying to remember.

"A common scoundrel. Called Dung by his acquaintances."

"Yes, one of my colleagues bought information from him once. How did you meet him?"

"Arabella Figg, a squib who was keeping an eye on me for Dumbledore, kept reporting to him about my situation. After many such reports, Dumbledore started to fear that it could get back to him one day. Mundungus was the only he could send to investigate and cover up. Anybody else would expose the whole thing. Fortunately for me, Mundungus did have a heart after all. He was in the area and arrived when he saw the flames. Long story short, he helped me to leave the country. We agreed on no contact because he was sure that Dumbledore was going to watch him. He broke the silence three weeks ago when he sent me a letter."

"Concerning me?"

"Not exactly. He did mention you. He also mentioned Vernon's sister Marge. However, the reason why he wrote was because he feared for his life."

"Why?" asked Rita, not even thinking about Dumbledore for one moment.

"Dumbledore was onto him."

"You must be joking. He can be ruthless but this?"

"Who says that Dumbledore must murder somebody by his own hands? As you might know, there are all sorts of unsavoury characters working for him. Some of them even served Voldemort during the war. What's one measly Dung compared to a raid on a whole village of muggles?"

Rita was silent.

"And that finally brings me here. I was supposed to meet him but he never arrived. I didn't wait around too long so maybe he was just late but I fear that something is wrong. The rest is history."

While Rita was processing it all, they arrived to a Russian wheel.

"Shall we?" asked Harry and nodded.

They couldn't talk while waiting in a line. That was fine with Rita, she needed more time to think.

"I hope you understand that you can't write any of this just yet," observed Harry when they were up. "That would be like writing a letter to Dumbledore. He can't know that I'm back."

Rita just murmured in an ambiguous agreement. She understood it but she didn't like it.

"And when you have your life back and the time is right, we'll need to think about how exactly are we going to present the whole story to the public. I suggest not to make any solid plans in that regard yet, a lot of things can change in the meantime."

Rita thought about the part of getting her life back. Harry uttered it so casually but it was exactly what she wanted. Or, to be precise, to get her life back on the track and then get a boost on her continued journey on that track. She had been on a verge of a great career. He story about Harry Potter was supposed to elevate her among elite journalists. Dumbledore brought it all to a halting end.

"And you?" she asked. "What's your goal in all of this?"

A shadow of a smile went over Harry's lips and he answered, "Once again, I'll have to disappoint you because this is something embarrassingly simple. My goals in my life are simply the life itself and self-perfection. Dumbledore's existence threatens the first and ending it would further the second."

"Ending it?"

"You can't deny that it's a worthy challenge."

"You can't be serious. He's the most powerful wizard alive."

"That's not entirely correct. There are wizards and witches who are older or stronger or wiser. Also, I'm not arrogant enough to believe that I could possibly defeat him in a single combat. But who says that I have to do that?"

"What do you propose to do?" asked Rita. She couldn't believe that she was discussing Dumbledore's downfall with a nine year old boy.

"No solid plans yet. I would start by removing his support. Some of his friends are at odds with him already. We'll destroy his image and more will follow. However, we need to find Mundungus before we do anything else. Or find out what happened to him at least."

"Do you have means of contacting him?"

"No. However, if we wish to find him, then the best place to start is Marge's hideout."

"Do you think that I haven't tried to find her?"

"I'm sure you've tried. Maybe you need someone with a different point of view. When you talked to her, before Dumbledore moved her, did you see any dogs around?"

"Many."

"Marge is a member of a society which organizes dog shows. Or was three years ago at least. I doubt that she would cease her activities in the area. Maybe they have her new address."

"That's a long-shot."

"Still, there's no reason why we shouldn't try."

There was time till sunset so they travelled there by mundane means. It was night already when they arrived. Rita told Harry to wait outside. He didn't like it because he feared that she wouldn't be able to do it without using spells.

"Don't worry, I won't touch my wand," she assured him and left.

Harry was quite surprised when she returned a little while later and told him that he had been right.

"How have you done it?" he asked.

"You've got your secrets, I've got mine. That reminds me, there's something we need to resolve before we follow this lead. You answered my questions to confirm your identity and I answered yours. We've been together for last several hours and a Polyjuice Potion would have worn off already. Still, we can't be sure."

"I'm not going to Gringotts and I don't think you want to go there either."

"There are other ways. A magical oath for example."

"There's a problem. Swearing that I'm Harry Potter would work only if I had a strong sense of that identity. I didn't know who I truly was until three years ago and I certainly didn't identify myself with my family name afterwards."

"Huh. There's another option. A friend of mine, another journalist, is in possession of a gadget which can uncover if a person touching it is lying or blocking the device. He's using it on his informers. Of course, it can't uncover a master occlumens... Do you know what occlumency is?"

"Yes, I do. This friend of yours, is he a real friend or a colleague?"

"An acquaintance," admitted Rita after a brief hesitation.

"Is it safe to approach him?"

"It's not like there's an arrest warrant on my head."

"Don't underestimate Dumbledore. Both Grindelwald and Voldemort did that."

"I won't tell him anything about you. I'll just borrow the device."

Harry thought about it. Would conforming to Rita's wish benefit him in any way? If she really was Rita Skeeter and not an imposter, then she would be able to trust him. The ball would be on his side of the field then. He agreed.

It wasn't far so Rita offered to apparate them. Harry let her. She experienced some difficulties when dragging him along. She wasn't used to passengers so she didn't think much of it.

Her acquaintance was still in his office. She borrowed the device and returned to Harry.

"Three years ago, you lived with Dursleys at number four, Privet Drive, and they called you Harry Potter," she started her questioning. "Is this true or false?"

"False. They called me boy or freak. But it's true otherwise."

Rita wasn't even stumped by the answer. She gave him a few more questions. Harry answered some and refused to answer others until they were rephrased. The device didn't detect any deception but it was acting out sometimes. It wasn't what she had been told to watch for but it made her suspicious.

She returned the device and told the journalist about her problems. He asked to meet her source but she claimed that the person wished to remain anonymous. In the end, the man told her that the device had done something similar once when he was interviewing a goblin. The problem was that the device was attuned to human wizards only. That made sense to her because Harry wasn't a wizard yet.

"Well?" asked Harry when she returned to him.

"Are you a goblin?" she asked in return. "Using some kind of a new Polyjuice Potion?"

"No, I'm definitely not a goblin," laughed Harry. "But I suspect that what you've meant to ask is whether I'm human."

There was a pause.

"Are you?" asked Rita after a while.

"Ms. Skeeter, it's not always a question of what you are but how you feel. However, I think we should leave these deep questions for later. Right now, I'm quite concerned about Mundungus. Let's get some sleep now and head to Marge's at morning."

"Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"As a matter of fact, no. But that's not a problem."

"Don't be silly. You can stay with me, if you don't mind sleeping on a floor."

"Not at all. You still expect me to turn into something else, right?"

"Maybe."

"Where are you staying? Is it safe?"

"I had to leave my flat some time ago so I'm staying at this cheap motel right now."

"Very well. But you should pack your things in the morning and check out. We need to keep moving."

Rita thought about it and agreed.

When they arrived to Marge's house next day, they didn't have to search for long. The burned out apartment was quite visible to anybody passing through the area. They asked around. It wasn't difficult to learn what was a public knowledge already. Marge was dead and there was one other victim.

"We need to go to the local police station," proposed Harry. "Do you've got some kind of a magical fake ID?"

"I've got a fake press card."

"That's not good enough for what I have in mind. I wanted to pose as somebody who might identify the other victim."

"Do you think it was Fletcher?"

"I fear it's the case."

Rita tried to talk to the cops who had investigated the case but they refused to comment. In the end, it was a cleaner who told her that the other body had been moved to a morgue in a near city.

"I need to see the body," insisted Harry.

"That could be difficult," argued Rita. "It's not like breaking into offices of some dog club. I can't get you in there. Not without using magic at least."

Harry shook his head and countered, "I don't need your help for that. Obviously, you have some kind of a trick for getting into places. Well, I too can get around. The problem is that neither of us wishes to share their tricks. So, there are only two options. One is for me to go alone. Other is to do it in a completely mundane way."

"That's madness."

"Well, I can go alone if you wish. But I have a feeling that you want to know for yourself if my theory is correct."

Rita had to admit to herself that he was right. Dumbledore killing Mundungus Fletcher (or having him killed) for helping Harry Potter was something big. She wasn't about to just wait outside for him to return and say whether or not it was Fletcher's body. That is, if he truly managed not to get caught. She couldn't go in there alone either. She didn't know Fletcher personally and photos wouldn't be enough for Harry given the probable state of the body. They travelled to the city.

"Well?" asked Rita after Harry had observed the building for some time.

He put aside Rita's little spyglass and answered, "I wouldn't recommend the front entrance. It's too visible from the street and there's a security camera right behind it. On the other hand, the parking lot is quite unprotected. The door there has an electronic lock which seems quite simple. Of course, we don't know what's behind it."

"Wait a minute, what's this electronic lock?"

"In theory, you punch in a code and it unlocks. In praxis, cheaper and older locks have all sorts of weaknesses. There's just a bunch of dead bodies inside the building after all."

"And then?"

"You can go scout ahead if you wish."

Rita made Harry to leave. When she was sure that no one could possibly see her, she transformed and flew in through the front entrance. She didn't wish to get lost in the corridors so she just took a look on what was in the direction of the entrance Harry wanted to use.

"I saw something," she said when she returned to Harry. "There was a man in an uniform watching these televisions. Several of them."

"Feeds from surveillance cameras. Do you think you remember enough to draw a map?"

They did some drawing and a plan started to hatch in Harry's head.

"By the way," he uttered while they worked. "While I don't know what's your secret trick, I'm getting a rough idea about what you can do with it. Perhaps you expect me to reciprocate now and give you some proof that I've got a similar trick as well. I want you to know that it's not happening. While your trick is surely uncommon or even rare, I'm sure it wouldn't be considered out of ordinary by other wizards. That's not my case. One day, I might be able to trust you enough to start using my trick in our endeavours but the less you know about it, the better for you."

Rita decided not to dignify such a statement with a comment. It seemed to her like he was overvaluing his little trick. At best, he was some kind of an animagus but that was a wild theory. It had taken her many years to manage that herself.

It was evening already so they didn't have to wait long for nightfall. They approached the parking lot.

"Wait here for a minute, then follow me," instructed Harry.

He ran over the lot and inspected the door. He recognized the type of the lock right away, the agent had encountered it many times. Its digital part was vulnerable but the mechanism itself was even weaker. Harry didn't need any special equipment (at least not too special) to open it.

He unscrewed the keypad and removed the battery. Then he removed the cover of the lock itself. The place to which he needed to get was inside the door, behind a bend. Harry attached two stiff wires to the battery, bent them as he needed, and started to feel with them inside the mechanism. When Rita arrived, he found the right spots and closed a circuit. The lock thought that it received a signal to open.

"Hold the door open," whispered Harry.

He put everything back in order. They stepped inside and closed the door. Harry looked back, at the inner side of the door.

"Do you see this door handle?" he asked and used it to open the door again. "You could have used your trick to get in here and simply open it from the inside!"

"Well, your method was only a little slower. Where did your learn it anyway?"

"You learn these kinds of things when you live like me."

They put masks on and continued. There weren't many cameras and they managed to avoid them on their way to the security booth. There was a night-guard, watching the monitors, just as Rita had said. Or more precisely, he was reading a book and drinking tea from a Thermos. Harry backed off again and motioned to Rita to follow him.

"OK, this is a trick I'm going to do often," joked Harry and pulled a bottle of laxative from his pocket. "So, I don't want to hear any comments about repeating myself."

He looked around and opened a door. He closed it again and opened another door.

"I need you to create a diversion for me," he said after a while. "Hold this door for two minutes then let it go and hide. The door will slam shut and the guard will come to investigate."

"And when he's away from his post, what exactly are you going to do?"

Harry grinned and shook the bottle of laxative. He went to hide on the opposite side from the guard. Rita let the door slam shut and hid nearby. It wasn't a very good spot but she could always change into a beetle.

The guard left and Harry took his place. True enough, it wasn't possible to get to the morgue itself without passing through a field of vision of at least two cameras. He checked whether the feeds were being recorded but it didn't seem like it was the case. He opened the flask with tea and added the laxative. He closed the flask again and shook it.

"What now?" asked Rita when they reunited.

"Now we wait."

The guard left for rest room soon enough. Harry examined his workstation again and fiddled with some of the controls.

"Let's go," he commanded. "We can go straight to the body now."

They reached the morgue and checked a manifest hanging on a wall. The determined the proper compartment and opened it. There was a short body covered by a sheet. Harry pulled it down. Rita gasped. The body was completely charred and the head was mostly missing. She was about to tell Harry not to look at it but then she noticed that he wasn't horrified.

"Well, judging by the figure, it seems like him," observed Harry. "Would you agree?"

"I don't know."

"There's one way to be surer. Could you wait outside please?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to betray his secrets, even though he's dead."

Rita did as she was asked. When Harry rejoined her, he held up a plastic bag. Rita had to hold back a bile. There was something bloody inside with pieces of charred flesh.

"His wand," explained Harry. "He would want me to have it. Plus, the tissue samples can be used to identify him. Not that I have any doubts."

They left the building. They didn't seek a motel but walked out of the city. Harry thought that Rita needed time to ponder over things.

"What was that about?" she asked after a while. "How did you get the wand?"

"Mundungus had a special trick for hiding things. Unfortunately, it wasn't possible to extract it cleanly with him dead."

They arrived to a gas station. They pulled the wand out of the bag and sealed the "sample" inside. Harry washed the wand.

"Can you find out something from the wand?" he asked.

"A full investigation would require a professional. Mr. Ollivander for example, since we can't take this to Aurors..."

"Is there something you can do?"

"I can tell you what kind of a spell was used last. I'll have to use my wand though."

"Do it. We'll move away from here immediately afterwards."

They were on a road again a while later. It was full moon so they could see quite well.

"Well?" asked Harry.

"Nothing interesting. Just a proximity alarm. That's completely logical. He was on a stakeout and decided to have some sleep."

"But that's far from uninteresting. Let's sum it up. He hid his wand where I would find it. That indicates that he was being cautious. At the same time, he merely set a proximity alarm and went to sleep. That means that he wasn't expecting to die that very night."

"Somebody else could cast several spells after his death to cover a duel. Then they blew the whole place up to mask any physical signs of combat."

"You are forgetting something. No one else but him and me knew about the hiding place. Of course, there are people from which he had learned the trick but even with such a knowledge it wouldn't be possible to put it in there without cutting him up."

Rita didn't ask what was the trick. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to know.

"Do you still believe that Dumbledore is behind his death?" she asked instead.

"We have talked about this already. I do not believe it, I know it. You don't know Dumbledore the way I do. You have no idea what's he capable of."

"I disagree. Unlike you, I've talked to him personally and faced his threats."

"Then take that feeling, take that picture of him you've got, and realise that it's only a tip of an iceberg."

"A tip of an iceberg?"

Harry explained. They arrived to a rest area and sat down.

"Why are we walking?" asked Rita.

"Because we need to think. And make decisions. A walk and fresh air will keep our brains alert."

"Or we might catch cold."

"From whom? Do you see any sneezing people around? Never mind. We need to decide on our next course of action. That is, if you wish us to remain together."

Rita thought about it.

"Yes. I think it would be for the best. But I have no idea what to do. If you are right, then our lives are in danger."

"One thing at a time. First, we'll need money. I assume that you are running out of them?"

"That's correct. And you can't go to Gringotts. For all we know, Dumbledore has got some kind of control over your vault anyway."

"Fear not, I've got money. A lot of them."

"Where?"

"In a Swiss bank."

"Swiss goblins?"

"No, a Swiss non-magical bank. But I suspect that goblins are involved."

"Are you talking about muggle money?"

"Yes."

"Those are useless to us. If I'm not mistaken, they are just worthless pieces of paper."

"And sometimes even less. And yet, no wizard can go, start making tons of then, and use those to buy gold."

"Yes, it's illegal. Statute of secrecy. But wizards don't do it because it would be disgraceful."

"They can't do it because it would become apparent. Every banknote is numbered. What exactly do you think would happen if muggles found out that there are large amount of genuinely looking banknotes with identical numbers?"

"They would think that there's a very good forger out there?"

"They would panic. Their entire economy relies on the fact that only a central bank can print new money. After that, you would have the local ministry and goblins on your tail. Trust me, Mundungus tried that. Dumbledore got him out of it."

"How did you come by that money?"

"Don't worry, I didn't conjure it. It's real."

"So, we'll just go to a bank?"

"We'll need to go to Switzerland. You are going to need a passport and not just for the travel. You don't have one, right?"

Rita nodded.

"That's OK. Even if you had one, it would be ill advised to use it. Dumbledore has eyes on that too for all we know."

"And we can't apparate or get a portkey," remarked Rita. Not only she was unable to make such a journey with a passenger but the Ministry would also detect it.

"Like I've said, it isn't just about getting there. You are going to need some ID. Luckily, I can provide you with one."

"A fake passport?"

"Better. A real one. Or at least as real as they get. Can you get us to London?"

Rita shook her head and answered, "Right now, I'm too tired to teleport even myself. If this keeps up, I'm going to get sick."

"Don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for you to rest while we wait for our flight. Let's take a train."

Rita wanted to perform some basic hygienic and cosmetic spells before the travel but Harry advised her to wait till London. Rita wondered when exactly had she allowed him to take charge.

She fell asleep as soon as they boarded a train. When they reached King's Cross, her whole body ached.

"Can you do those spells without disrupting the lights?" asked Harry while they were heading to nearest toilets.

"Yes, I think so," replied Rita sleepily.

They headed to lockers when she was done. Harry found the right one and inserted the right combination on its combination lock. Rita held her bag out for Harry while he cleared the contents of the locker in it. Everything was in black plastic bags so Rita didn't see what it was. She wanted to find a hotel then but Harry took her to an automatic photo-booth first.

They checked in a hotel afterwards and rented a two bedroom apartment. Rita didn't even bother with a shower (she had used magic to clean herself earlier anyway) and went straight to a bed. When she woke up, it was almost noon.

"Good morning, aunt Joan," greeted her Harry when she emerged from her bedroom.

"What?" mumbled Rita.

Harry lifted a Bible and picked up a blue booklet from under it.

"That's what your passport says - Joan Clarke," he explained and put it under the Bible again. "I didn't make the name up, it was there already. After the woman who worked with Alan Turing, you know."

"That's what was in the locker?"

"That, some money, and some tools and supplies for finishing the passport. I've added your photo. We'll start on the lamination later today. I've also taken the liberty of writing myself in as a minor. Harry Clarke. We'll keep pretending that you're my aunt."

Rita narrowed her eyes in confusion before she remembered that it was something he had told her when they first met.

"The advantage of this passport is that it isn't just a piece of paper. As I said before, it's not fake, it's real. And not only that, it has a whole dummy identity attached to it. A flimsy one, but it can bear a superficial examination. They are introducing a new kind of a passport later this year but you can use this one until it expires. Which is several years from now."

"Where did you learn all this? And who has put those things in that locker?"

"An associate of Mundungus. Not a wizard. Military. Didn't return from a mission some time ago. Alas, you are asking too much about Mundungus and his associates here. I shouldn't talk about these matters."

"Is this how you're going to deflect every question? You do realize that I'm starting to doubt whether you're Harry Potter, right? Or a nine year old boy for that matter."

"Oh come on. There are boys much younger than me who are serving in military already and who are in command of their own platoons when they reach my age. Some boys, I repeat some, can prove to be quite resourceful when given the chance. And it wasn't as much as a chance as a necessity in my case."

They talked about flying to Switzerland afterwards. Harry found out that Rita didn't know how to book a flight and buy tickets. He himself had not ever done that either for that matter.

They went to have a lunch. When they returned, they practised Rita's phone call while Harry worked on the passport. It was late afternoon when they went down to the reception to make the call. Rita wasn't natural but at least she wasn't nervous. There were a few free seats in a flight three days from then. They had a supper and Harry went to bed shortly afterwards, advising Rita to do the same.

Next morning, Harry prepared the finished passport and money for Rita and they went to London City Airport. Fearing that Rita would somehow expose them, Harry handled the buying of tickets (with Rita's pretended oversight).

Afterwards, they went to a London branch of an international bank with headquarters in Switzerland. Rita opened an account and deposited a minimal amount of money.

When they returned to the hotel, Rita decided to use the time to talk to Harry.

"Harry? There's something I'd like to ask about."

"I can't tell you anything about Mundungus or his associates."

"This is about you. After we used the lie detection device, I asked you whether you are a human."

"And I told you that it's a matter of a feeling."

"And that we can talk about it later."

Harry didn't reply but made a facial expression which Rita translated as acknowledgement.

"Did you mean that you don't feel like a human?" she asked.

Harry thought about it and decided that having a little talk couldn't hurt - for as long as he was careful.

"If we are to have this conversation, we'll need to have an understanding," he emphasized.

"What sort of an understanding?"

"That you can't write about this. I've told you that once already but I need to be sure that you understand the importance of this before I bare my soul to you, so to speak."

"You, baring your soul? To me? Don't make laugh."

"It's just a figure of speech. Now, I'm not saying that you can't write any of this when the time is right. However, that's something we'll need to agree on together. For example, we might decide to present me as somebody who doesn't want to have anything to do with the magical world and who could be dangerous if prodded but not as somebody who is too dark."

"Oh come on," dismissed Rita. "You aren't dark."

While the fact that he had been unaffected by Fletcher's passing was obvious, it was also clear to her that they had not been dear to each other.

"You haven't seen the worst of me yet. I'll need your word. No publishing, this is for your ears only."

"Very well, you have my word," promised Rita with a sigh.

"You could at least try to say it like you mean it," accused her Harry.

"You have my word. I won't publish it without your permission. Now tell me how can someone stop considering himself a human being. I mean someone like you, who isn't some insane savage."

Harry laid down and considered what was he going to say. "Try to look at it from my perspective," he started. "I was facing hostility from every human being ever since I could remember. The Dursleys hated me because I was magical and teachers at school considered me a troublemaker. The Dursleys didn't even consider me a human. I guess that from their point of view, I really wasn't. The only person who have ever treated me at least neutrally was Mrs. Figg and she didn't really count in my book. My point is, that kind of a situation can ingrain a certain world view on you. A view where there is a thick line and you are on one side of it and everybody else is on the other. Or, to be more precise, the humanity is on the other side. Ergo, you aren't really part of that, part of humanity."

"What about Dung? He wasn't hostile to you."

"Oh please. Surely you don't think that I trusted him or considered him to be on my side. Not at first, that's for sure. And when I started to trust him, it wasn't because of some implicit trust or comradeship. It was because I understood what he wanted from me. I was an investment, a retirement plan. He defied Dumbledore who was old and to whom he owed. He got me and my gratitude in return. He was sure that I would repay my debt to him. Not by money but by some cozy position. Such as a manager of the Potter estate. So no, his help didn't make me to change my point of view. By the way, the same goes for our cooperation. I do know that you have an agenda and you work with me because it suits you. That doesn't make us friends."

"I'm not trying to become your friend."

"Good. On the other hand, that doesn't mean that I wouldn't be upset if you double crossed me. Yes, I would be most upset and cross with you indeed."

That almost sounded like a threat to Rita. She thought about everything Harry had said. Her first thought was that he was taking himself a little bit too seriously. Nonetheless, she decided to drop the matter for the time being.

They used next day to prepare for their journey. They did some shopping and reserved a hotel in their destination city. Harry had got some Swiss francs but they bought more. They made sure not to pack more cash than what was required to declare. Apart from that, they had some magical loose change. It was less than four Galleons - all the money Rita had left.

They checked out of the hotel and took a bus to the airport next day. They went through the customs without a hitch. After some waiting, it was time to board their plane.

When they sat down, Harry looked around and commented, "You know, this reminds of a scene at a beginning of this film I've seen. A plane preparing for take-off, people settling in. A perfect setting for something mysterious and catastrophic to happen."

"Like what? The plane's going to disappear?"

"Better. The rest of the world will disappear. And we will be suspended in a void forever."

"Don't you call misfortune on us," rumbled an old lady who was going to sit with them. "What if something truly happened?"

Harry grinned at her.

They took off. Rita was sitting next to a window and kept gazing out of it for most of the time. Harry slept. The lady found it curious that Rita didn't trade places with Harry and that she was like a child who had never flown before but she didn't dwell on it.

They landed. Harry and Rita went straight to a hotel to check in. After they settled down, they went down to the reception again to use a telephone. Rita called the bank to make an appointment for next day. Then they had a dinner in the hotel restaurant.

Next day, they went to a nearest owl office. It wasn't hidden from eyes of mundane people completely, it masqueraded as a pet shop. They sent a letter to a goblin bank to make yet another appointment. Then they went to the Swiss bank. They were directed to an accountant who was going to handle their requests.

"Ms. Clarke, are you sure you want your nephew to be here?" asked the accountant after they greeted each other. He talked in an impeccable but wooden British English.

"Of course, he needs to learn."

"I can't but agree," conceded the accountant.

Rita provided him with the account number and its password. The accountant checked on his computer.

"Very well, what can we do for you today?" he asked.

Rita laid out their request. First they opened a new account in the very same bank. This one was tied to Rita's (fake) person (the passport and a signature). They transferred some of the money in there. The same amount was transferred to the account they had opened in London. A small amount was withdrawn in Swiss francs. They wanted everything else (which was still a wast majority) in gold.

"Yes, we can buy gold for you, for a fee," acknowledged the accountant. "However, I would like to advise you that this isn't a good time to buy gold."

"And silver?" asked Rita before she could think it through.

"That's somewhat better right now. Unfortunately, it's almost as bad when you account for the tax. However, palladium is quite low at the moment from a long term point of view."

"I think I'll stick with gold."

"Forgive me, aunt Joan, may I have an observation?" interjected Harry. He spoke in the exact way the accountant expected him to speak.

"Yes?" prompted him Rita.

"Maybe we shouldn't, as they say, put all eggs into one basket."

She furrowed her brows and leaned to him.

"I think they will take a limited amount of palladium," he whispered. He meant the goblins, of course.

"Very well," she told the accountant. "Twenty percent in palladium, the rest in gold."

They resolved a few minor issues and wrapped up the meeting. The precious metals were going to be prepared next day.

"Well, now we've got a loads of money," commented Harry when they left the building. "Aren't you tempted to go to an expansive restaurant?"

"Sure, let's have a lunch."

They returned to the owl office after the meal. There was a reply. The goblins could give them a short meeting that very day or a longer one next day. The letter had an embedded means of reply. Rita tapped the first option with her wand.

"Excuse me, do you've got a connected fireplace here?" she asked one of the "shopkeepers". While there was enough time to travel to the bank by train, it wasn't going to be possible to return before nightfall. She didn't wish to teleport that far with Harry in tow.

"No, but there's one in an inn in a village not far from here," was the answer. "You can also apparate here if you wish."

They showed her an empty spot in a corner. Rita memorized it.

They travelled to the village they had mentioned in the owl office. The innkeeper let them use the fireplace (for a small payment for the used powder).

The meeting in the bank was quite uneventful. They were going to take both the gold and palladium. For a fee. They were even going to arrange the transportation. For a fee.

The only concern raised by the goblin handling their case was whether they had acquired the metals in a legitimate way. They showed him all the concerned receipts from the bank. He told them that they needed to verify it. For a fee.

The meeting wrapped up, they agreed to continue next day. Harry and Rita travelled back to the inn and then apparated back to the city. Once again, Rita noted certain difficulties with Harry.

They returned to the hotel. Harry noted a guy who was hanging around the reception, reading newspaper. Something about him rubbed him wrong. He didn't look like he was a native Swiss.

"Shall we have a supper downstairs?" asked Harry.

"I would rather not, I'm quite tired," disagreed Rita. "Do you think that they could bring us something up here instead? We've got a table here after all."

"Yes, I think it should be possible. I'll go downstairs to ask."

The man which Harry had seen before was gone. Harry was about to talk to the receptionist but then he changed his mind and went through the restaurant to the kitchen.

He stole a small knife there, just for a case. A moment after he pocketed it, somebody noticed him and told him that he wasn't supposed to be there. The cook spoke German and Harry answered in the same language (though his German was simplistic and pronunciation all wrong). He said that he wanted to order food to a room but couldn't find a waiter who would take his order. The employee told Harry that such requests were for the reception and started to ask more questions.

A while later, a senior cook who was nearby told them to end their conversation. He asked Harry for a room number and sent him away. He promised that somebody was going to come soon to get the order from his aunt.

True enough, somebody knocked on their door about five minutes later. Harry prepared himself when Rita opened the door. It was a hotel employee. Rita ordered them chicken soup and something light for the second course. She noticed that Harry was somewhat tense.

"What's up?" she asked when she closed the door.

"Probably nothing. You know what they say. If you are constantly paranoid, then you can't be taken by surprise."

"Have you seen something suspicious when you went down?"

"No," answered Harry truthfully. "Just a feeling."

Rita checked her wand. Harry cleared his throat and shook his head slightly. They were in a mundane area. It was best to avoid magic.

There was another knock a half an hour later. Rita had almost forgotten about the whole thing by then,

"Who's that?" she called.

"Your order."

Rita cracked the door open. There was an uniformed waiter with a food trolley. Everything seemed to be in order. Rita stepped back. Harry sat down to the table and put his hands on it.

The waiter pushed the trolley through the door. A rush of footsteps and motion followed. Three men stormed inside. Harry observed them dispassionately. The man in front was armed by a Makarov with a silencer. Next one had got a Norinco clone of CZ-75. No silencer. Last one carried a .38 revolver. Also no silencer. Harry pondered whether the first one or the last one was a leader. Either way, only the one with the Makarov planned for a possibility of any shooting. The other two were a backup.

Before the last one closed the door, the first one aimed his Makarov at Rita's head. The waiter let go of the trolley and moved aside.

"Keep your mouth shut," he hissed. He spoke English but with a noticeable Russian accent.

Truth to be told, Rita didn't even think about screaming. They wanted to keep a low profile after all. She though about drawing her wand. That was even a worse idea than screaming but it was her instinct of a wand user. Fortunately, she was worried that they might think that she was drawing some kind of a weapon and shoot her before noticing that it was just a wooden stick.

The man with Makarov caught eyes of one of his companions and nodded at Rita. It was an order to keep an eye on her and Harry. He himself took a quick look around. It seemed like he was expecting to find somebody. It seemed to Harry that he was the leader.

"Where is that bastard?" he growled when he returned. "And who are you? His secret family which he has sent to collect the money? Is that why he doesn't care that we've got his woman?"

It seemed to Harry that he had done Teresa (the mulatto from Little Cayman) no favour when he had not killed her.

"What are you talking about?" retorted Rita.

The man understood it as a sign of not being cooperative and grabbed Harry by his collar. Just when he was bringing his gun to Harry's head, three things happened in quick succession. Harry slashed the man with his knife. He wounded him on his ribcage and on his right arm. He made sure not to go anywhere near his armpit. He twisted the gun from his failing grasp and fired a bullet. The other two men were lined up in front of him and the shorter one was closer. The bullet went through his neck. It didn't hit an artery so there was no great spurt of blood but the man started to choke up. The bullet continued into the other man's skull and didn't come out. Finally, Harry stabbed the leader in a knee from behind and whacked him with the gun when he sunk.

"Auntie, use something to stop the bleeding please," he said tonelessly. "Before they make too much of a mess, if you could."

He walked over to the waiter and aimed the Makarov at his belly. The waiter fainted before Harry could say anything. Harry looked at Rita who still wasn't moving. There was no need for him to say anything, she started looking around for something to wrap the wounds with. Harry unloaded the trolley and started to eat his soup.

"How can you eat?" exclaimed Rita.

"Welcome to my world," replied Harry and wiped his lips with a napkin. "In case you are wondering - no, this isn't anything out of ordinary for me."

He helped her to wrap the wounds. They used their spare clothes.

"Listen up now," he told her when they were done. "I know that you would prefer to rest but we need to act quickly. Regardless of what you might want to do tomorrow, I need you to do exactly as I say tonight. We'll put the waiter on the trolley. You need to dump him in the hallway to make it look like he collapsed. Make sure that you aren't seen. Go downstairs and have some tea in the restaurant. Give me twenty minutes and then come back here. All four bodies should be gone by then. Vanish any traces of blood. I think that a small amount of such a kind of magic will escape any notice."

"Four bodies? There are only two."

"Well, this one is almost dead and we can't let this rat live, can we?"

While Harry spoke, he kept looking at the waiter, checking for signs of him waking up.

"If I'm not here when you return, check out tomorrow morning. Store our suitcases in the inn, if you wish. Don't forget about the gold and palladium transport. You need to be there. The bank won't give them the metals otherwise. So, I would kind of appreciate if you could handle that."

"Yes, I'll be there!" snapped Rita. "Who were these people? Have you stolen the money from them?"

"Frankly, I have no idea. Wait till tomorrow if you wish to hear my theories."

"What are you going to do?"

"Get rid of these," answered Harry and waved his hand at the Russians. "And go after those who sent them. I'll try to rejoin you before morning comes. It would look weird if I didn't leave with you. However, if I'm not here by then, than we shall meet in the inn. Handle your meeting with the goblins as you wish if I'm not with you."

Rita stared at him for a moment. Any belief that her companion was really a nine year old boy was gone. Alas, it wasn't a good time to confront him about it.

They loaded the waiter on the trolley. Rita kept the key and put a "do not disturb" sign on the door. Harry remained behind and ate some more soup.

When he was certain that Rita wasn't coming back, he transformed. It was unbelievingly refreshing. A short thrust of his inner jaw and he knew everything about the assailants. A Russian arms and drug smuggling bratva. Harry remembered them vaguely from his operation at the Caymans. Strange, he didn't take as much from them as from some others. Maybe it wasn't the actual amount that mattered to them but rather the fact itself that somebody stole from them.

The Cayman bank was most distraught about the incident and provided full cooperation. The banker's associate who had set up the account for Harry agreed to help to prove that he had nothing to do with it. He tipped the Russians off as soon as they accessed the account. Afterwards, it was only a matter of finding the hotel Harry and Rita were in. The waiter and one of the receptionist were aiding them in exchange for money.

The banker's mistress was in Switzerland. As a matter of fact, she was being held in a warehouse near the city. The bratva task-force had their hideout there.

Harry transformed back in his human form and wiped his mouth. He unlatched a window and stepped out of the room. The waiter was found by some guests. They called for help and his colleagues arrived. Harry observed from distance.

The receptionist who had told the gangsters that Harry and Rita were in the hotel arrived shortly as well. He seemed unsure. He probably thought that the waiter had collapsed because he couldn't handle what had happened to Rita and Harry. He told the others not to worry and asked them to help him carry the waiter. He needed to wake him up and talk to him alone.

Once the waiter was on a sofa and they were alone, the receptionist started to wake him up. The waiter was roused after a while and started to mumble something.

"What happened?" asked the receptionist.

"He killed them all," mumbled the waiter.

The receptionist didn't stop to think why did he say "all" instead of "both" and asked, "Think. Can this somehow get back to us?"

The waiter raised his hand and feebly pointed behind the receptionist where Harry was standing with a Makarov in his hand.

When Rita returned to the room, all the bodies were gone. Harry was finishing his meal.

"Still here," he reported jovially. "I've left you some soup but it has gone cold, I'm afraid. Moreover, we've got work to do. I think we should do everything in our power to avoid any suspicion that Joan Clarke has anything to do with this."

No way. Not until she knew more. She walked to Harry who twisted on his chair so he could face her. She sunk to one knee so they were face to face.

"Do you really think that I believe that you are who you claim to be?" she growled. Acting on impulse, she leaned closer and invaded his personal space.

"We've talked about this before," replied Harry tiredly.

What Rita did next caught Harry by surprise. Maybe it caught Rita herself by surprise as well. She kissed him. Harry didn't react in any way.

"Are you done?" he asked when their lips parted.

She pulled away and studied his reaction. Suddenly, she wasn't sure if it was such a good idea.

"So, you thought to perform a test on me, right?" he continued. "In your mind, there were only two options. Either I am a nine year old kid in which case I should react like a normal nine year old kid. For example by freaking out and saying "yuck". Or I am an adult using some kind of a new potion in which case I should react in an appropriate way. What you are forgetting is that there's another option. One that I have been trying to hint at without giving you too much information."

"And that is?"

"That I am simply a nine year old person who has become way too jaded to react in any way. I assure you, unlike other boys my age, I'm not even curious."

Rita didn't reply and stood up.

Harry stood up as well and continued in a lighter tone, "Hey, you realize that what you've just did would be wrong regardless of what's the truth? If I'm saying the truth and I'm truly nine year old, then what you've just did is considered morally questionable in most countries. Then there's the option that I'm actually Dumbledore. There's only one word to describe this: disgusting! And if I am a goblin... Hmm. As I think about it, that's not so bad. If you swing that way, who am I to judge you?"

Rita rolled her eyes.

"Enough chitchat, let's get to work," ordered Harry.

They cleaned the bloodstains. That is, Rita vanished them using her wand.

"Where are the corpses?" she asked.

"In a back alley behind the hotel. They had a car parked there. We'll use it to move the bodies."

"How did you move them?"

"I carried them one by one through a window."

"Are you an animagus?" she asked bluntly.

Harry hesitated momentarily before he answered, "No."

That told Rita pretty much everything she wanted to know. Harry himself wasn't sure if he truly didn't want to make that pause.

"You know, it could be also telekinesis and self-levitation," he remarked. "Oh, and thank you for confirming that you are an animagus yourself. My guess is that it's something small and airborne. I'll give you one advice: Do not overuse your gift. Changing into something small is an accident waiting to happen. By the way, I hope that changing into an animal can't be detected."

"As far as I know, there aren't any means to do that over large areas yet. By the way, you aren't first animagus who started to identify with his animal self. It's considered odd but far from abominable."

She didn't even consider that he could be a werewolf. She had seen him in full moon after all. Obviously, he also wasn't a vampire. Him being an animagus was a perfect explanation when combined with an identity loss.

"I won't talk about this," resolved Harry. He was giving her too much information as it was.

They made a plan which accounted for the fact that they didn't want to show each other their tricks. Harry left the room and followed fire evacuation signs. Rita cracked a window open, changed into a beetle and flew out. Harry used a fire staircase to leave the building. He hoped that Rita wouldn't examine the bodies. He wrapped the leader's head with his own jacket but a quick peek under it would help Rita to make the connection with Fletcher. His entire lie hinged on that man. Luckily for him, he arrived before she even found the car.

"Do you know how to drive a car?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, I know where the wheel is and I can use all three pedals."

"Well, that's actually far better than most wizards. I'll handle the shifting and the parking brake for you. And blinkers. And I'll tell you how to drive in traffic. Luckily, it's quite late so there isn't much traffic to speak of."

They got in and Rita started the car. Harry needed to step out again and guide her out of the alley.

"First, we need to find a convenient spot for you to teleport in. Just in case."

That made sense because the owl office was closed. They stopped by an alley a few block away from the hotel. Rita took a look at it and they continued. She tried to coax more information about the Russians and the money. Harry told her to concentrate on the driving.

They stopped once they cleared the city. Harry asked Rita to help him offload two of the bodies (the waiter and the receptionist).

"Wait a moment," she said. "There are five bodies here. Who's the fifth?"

"A receptionist who ratted us out to the gangsters."

They pulled the bodies out.

"Can you turn them into wood?" asked Harry.

"Well, I'm not an expert. I would probably kill a living subject but that's obviously not an issue here."

She transfigured both corpses into long, dry branches. Harry wagered that any water was released into the air. If that was the case, turning them back would produce two withered mummies. They made a fire and burned the branches.

"Very well, I can drive myself from this point on," said Harry. "I think it would be best for you to return to our room and continue as agreed. What if someone comes there and finds out that we are gone?"

Truth to be told, he didn't want Rita to see the hole in the leader's head. He really needed to learn how to read people's minds without eating their brains. Rita watched him for a moment, pondering the options.

"Very well," she agreed in the end. "But we shall talk tomorrow."

"As you wish. All three of us."

"Three?"

"You'll see."

Rita apparated back. Harry cursed when he realized that they had forgotten to make a plan for him getting back inside the hotel without being seen (such as Rita opening a fire exit door for him at a specified time). It didn't matter. Harry drove on.

At one moment, he started to think about his situation. He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with it. He didn't like walking around in human form, pretending to be a traumatized nine year old boy. Harry shook his head and stopped thinking about it. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

He parked a few hundred meters away from the warehouse and continued on foot. He didn't change. For all he knew, Rita was hovering somewhere above him in her animal form. He was armed by the two pistols. He left the revolver in the car.

He approached his destination. There were no guards outside the warehouse. There was also no car parked outside even though Harry was aware that there was a second one. That meant that either some of them were gone or the car was moved inside.

Keeping to shadows, he reached the warehouse. He still didn't see anybody but he had a feeling that the heard voices inside. He found a back door. There was a narrow space under it so he laid on the ground and tried to see if there was somebody on the other side. It looked like the coast was clear. He opened the door quietly and peeked inside. He saw some men but no one was watching. He slipped inside and hid behind a crate.

There were three men. The car was parked in the middle of the warehouse. The men were eating at the moment. There was a bottle of vodka on a table.

He was wondering where Teresa was when he heard her voice. He didn't have a visual on her but he could tell where she was. He couldn't understand her well but he believed that she was telling her captors that she needed to pee. She didn't sound well.

One of the men approached her. The other two watched. Harry didn't wait for what he was about to say and moved forward. He aimed at one of those two men who was closer (behind the other). He was going to need to shoot him, handle the recoil, aim at the other guy, and shoot again. That was doable by an adult but it was no small feat for a child. Fortunately, he was no ordinary boy.

The man who approached the captive roared something. Harry didn't pay attention to what it was and squeezed. He hit his target in the back of his head. The silenced gunshot was lost in the talking man's voice. Harry shifted his aim at the other man and shot him twice in his chest. He made two bounds forward.

The last man heard the shots. Moreover, both shot men fell on the table, one of them rather noisily. He turned around and drew. It was too late. Harry mozambiqued him.

He finally took a look at the mulatto. She was cuffed to a chair and she truly looked much worse than the last time he had seen her. He motioned to her to keep silent and made a sweep of the area. He didn't exactly need to because he knew that there had been only six of them (from the brain he had consumed) but it was better to be safe. Plus, he needed to think about how was he going to play it.

"Who are you?" he asked when he returned to Teresa. "Do you speak English? What are you doing here?"

She was in shock, both from her ordeal in captivity and from Harry's shooting. At first she wasn't able to give any coherent answers. It took a while before Harry managed to coax out of her the information about whereabouts of the key for her cuffs.

When he freed her, she didn't run away from him. Despite what he had done, he was still a boy. There was no instinctive desire to get away from him.

"Look, I don't want to sound inconsiderate but we should get away from here," said Harry. "After I clean up, of course. Wait right here, I'll be right back. OK?"

It took a few moments before she nodded. Harry left. It was a test. He couldn't let her go just yet. If she ran, he would go after her. He hoped that Rita wasn't watching.

He drove the car with the bodies back to the warehouse. Teresa was outside, peeing behind a bush. Harry opened the gate. When she saw the additional bodies, she became nauseated and turned away. Harry found that strange because the death of those other three had not affected her like that. Maybe a fresh corpse was something different from an older corpse.

Harry thought about what was he going to do with the woman. She saw his face and if she gave police his description, Dumbledore might hear about it. The possibility was slim but he couldn't risk it. Maybe he could pull her even deeper instead. So deep that she wouldn't even think about talking to mundane police (and hopefully not even to magical one).

Harry moved the car which was in the warehouse a little to make space and drove the car with corpses inside. He started moving the corpses to seats. He wanted to make it look like they were killed in the car.

While he was stronger and heavier than other children his age, he grew quite winded after two bodies. He went outside where the banker's "widow" was sitting on asphalt.

"I'm not going to ask you if you are fine or how do you feel," he told her. "That would be quite idiotic given the situation and I do not wish to face your ire."

Teresa found his way of speaking quite strange for a child. Then she laughed when she realized that of all things the things which were strange about Harry, she pondered over this one. However, her laughter was humourless.

"I'm Harry," he introduced himself. "May I ask your name?"

She didn't answer at first.

"It's OK if you don't want to tell me. I'll just call you The Mystery Woman from Switzerland."

"Teresa," she revealed in the end. "And I'm from Cayman Islands."

Harry knew both of these information but he needed her to say it out loud. He pretended to be lost in thoughts.

"Huh. Cayman Islands," he uttered in the end.

Teresa looked at him but she didn't ask him to clarify. He stood up and returned to his work. She followed to see what he was doing.

"I guess you are wondering why I don't simply take you to a nearest police station," said Harry. "The thing is, if we do that, their superiors in Russia will know what happened here immediately. But if we play it right, it will take some time before they'll learn that something went wrong. And that can give us a short window of opportunity."

Teresa didn't understand what was he talking about but it looked to her like he did (understand). She also didn't understand what he meant by "us".

"So, these three I've killed a moment ago are positioned perfectly, we aren't touching them," he explained. "But these other three need to look like they arrived only afterwards and were ambushed by the same culprit. That won't be so simple because they are over an hour old. And it needs to look like the car caught on fire during it. Somehow."

Harry switched the car plates. The cars were similar. Unfortunately, they were also properly registered. It was going to be a simple matter to check the engine number. Harry searched the empty car and drove it outside. He closed the gate, leaving only a narrow space for a person to walk through.

"If you don't mind me asking," he addressed Teresa again. "Do you have any friends here in Switzerland or a family back home to call?"

Once again, he knew the answer but he needed to ask. Teresa considered whether she should tell him and then she shook her head.

"It's just that my aunt can help you, if you wish. Well, she isn't actually my aunt but that's what we claim. All three of us need to sit down and talk anyway. Now, could you go wait in the car outside? What I'm going to do now is rather sordid."

Harry took the Makarov and opened fire at the dead bodies in the car. He wiped his fingerprints from the other pistol, printed the leader's hand on it and put it in his pocket. It looked like and ambush. More or less. An investigation was going to reveal that somebody set the scene up, eventually. To cover the bite hole in his skull, he thrust an iron pipe in it.

He searched around for Molotov cocktail. He knew that there was a canister of it somewhere. While he was looking for it, he spotted two boxes of rounds for the revolver. He decided to keep the revolver and pocketed the boxes. He found the canister a little while later.

He needed to drain the gas tank. There wasn't much fuel left but it was still too much. He found a large pan and pushed it under the car. He found a wrench, laid on his back next to the car. There was a plug on the bottom of the tank. Harry loosened it. He let some of the fuel flow out and then he tightened the plug again. He found a half empty gasoline canister and poured the pan in it.

Harry took an empty bottle of vodka and poured a little of the cocktail in it. He made sure not to spill anything. He put the bottle in a hand of the dead body on the co-driver's seat. He wiped any fingerprints from the car, stepped back, and shot the bottle by the Makarov. The cocktail spilled.

Harry found a small rag, set it on fire and threw it in. The cocktail ignited but it was a small, controlled fire. He didn't want anybody to see the fire and report it. He opened the back door to make a draft. Not to fan the flames but to vent the smoke. It was quite a stench.

The fire spread. Harry helped the flames to find their way to the other two bodies by sprinkling in some gasoline. He wanted to be sure.

Harry closed the back door again. Taking one last look at the scene, he ran outside. Teresa was behind the wheel. Harry sat next to her and put the revolver and the ammo in the glove box.

"You can drive, I assume?"

Teresa nodded. However, Harry was pretty sure that she didn't have a driver's licence (back on Cayman Islands).

"Then go, before this vehicle gets soaked by the stench," he told her.

They reached a crossroad and Teresa asked where to go next.

"I was just thinking about that," answered Harry. "My aunt went back to the hotel. If I am seen sneaking back in, it will be suspicious. I think we should park somewhere out of sight and sleep in the car. We can go to the hotel at morning."

Harry hoped that Rita wasn't going to worry and do something unplanned.

Before he fell asleep, he thought again about what he had been thinking before. He didn't like doing what he was doing. Being human wasn't comfortable. Travelling with Rita was even worse. If Teresa was going to be added to the mix, he would be forced to leave. Yes, that was the best option. Having Rita as an ally was an advantage but that didn't mean that they needed to go everywhere together. He needed to part ways with her as soon as possible while maintaining their cooperation. The only question was what was Rita going to think about his need to leave.

Harry was woken up a few hours later. Teresa was mumbling something. It looked like bad dream. Harry rolled on his other side and went back to slumber.

It was uncomfortable to sleep in the car so they had no trouble with waking up early. They stepped out to stretch their limbs before getting back inside. They drove to the city.

"You don't have papers," reminded Harry Teresa. "So please, do exactly as I say. I don't want us to be stopped by cops."

Obviously, he said it in a way which allowed Teresa to think that he meant that she didn't have her papers with her. He didn't want to let it slip that he had any knowledge about her.

It was very early so they reached the hotel without further mishap. They parked in the same back alley where Harry had found the previous car.

"Stay here, wait ten minutes, then go inside and ask for Joan Clarke at the reception. When you meet, pretend that you know each other."

Harry entered the hotel through the main entrance. There was a drowsing receptionist.

"Good morning," addressed him Harry, making it look like he was coming from the restaurant. "I'm sorry to bother you but my aunt would like to know when breakfast starts."

The receptionist looked at a clock and answered, "In about half an hour. You are up quite early today."

"We need to leave early."

Harry went upstairs and knocked on their door. He needed to knock again because Rita was still in bed. She let him in.

"What happened?" she asked when she closed the door.

"I got the rest of the group and rescued the woman they mentioned yesterday. She's going to arrive in a few minutes to the reception. Let's pack, we need to check out. I suggest we move to the inn."

Rita couldn't agree more. With a lot of wizarding money coming their way, they could afford to take a break from living in mundane world.

They went down where Teresa was waiting for them already. The receptionist had probably told her that Harry and "Joan" were going to arrive shortly for breakfast. Rita gave an exceptional performance of pretending to know Teresa. She even hugged her though it was clear to her that she was non-magical. They asked if it was OK for her (Teresa) to join them for breakfast. The receptionist nodded reluctantly.

During the meal, they didn't talk about what had happened last night. Only after they checked out and sat in the car, did Rita broke the silence.

"Harry, you'd better start talking," she stated resolutely. "Who were those people who tried to kill us?"

"A Russian bratva," answered Harry dryly.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Can we talk about this later? We need to be at the bank soon."

"What bank?" asked Teresa.

"That's a long story."

Teresa didn't like not knowing what was going on but she agreed to drive them there. They rendezvoused with a van from the goblins. The transport crew was human, of course. Maybe even mundanes. Harry wasn't sure if they even knew who were they working for. Then again, it was also possible that at least one of them was a wizard. Not wishing to risk being recognized, Harry remained in the car with Teresa.

The gold and palladium was loaded up and the van set off. Rita thought that they should follow them when she realized that the goblin bank was in the opposite direction.

"I say to leave them be," proposed Harry. "For all we know, they are headed for some secret fireplace station."

Rita hissed and motioned to Teresa with her eyes. Teresa found the words "fireplace station" odd but she didn't inquire. She probably assumed that Harry meant a fire station. Which was just as odd.

"Let's head to the inn," suggested Harry. "We can talk there. Or once we get out of the city at least."

"Harry, I don't think..." started Rita and motioned to Teresa again.

"Aunt Joan," sighed Harry. "Just like you, Teresa also wants to understand what's going on. And she can't understand unless she knows it all. We won't be breaking the Statute of Secrecy. Technically."

"What are you talking about?" asked Teresa. She almost growled. Her shock was wearing off, being replaced by anger and irritation. She wanted to lash out.

"That's what I want to explain," soothed her Harry. "As soon as we get out of the city."

Teresa drove where they told her.

"You can stop over there, if you wish talk now," offered Harry once they cleared the city.

Teresa parked the car in a rest area.

"If I may, I would like to make a suggestion," opened Harry. "At the moment, all of us, including me, would like to know what's going on. So we'll talk and we'll piece it together. But it's not exactly comfortable to have lengthy discussions in this car so I suggest to leave any plan making for the inn. How does that sound?"

"OK," murmured Teresa. "But I want some answers."

"Aunt Joan?" prompted Harry.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" exclaimed Rita. "You can stop that aunt Joan nonsense now. I'm Rita."

"As you wish," nodded Harry.

He turned to Teresa and continued, "You say that you want answers. Ironically enough, I believe that the story begins with you and I think we should do this in chronological order. You've told me that you are from Cayman Islands, right?"

Teresa nodded. Harry was trying her patience.

"You don't work in a bank yourself but somebody close to you does, right?" continued Harry.

"Did. How do you know that?"

"The leader of the three men mentioned something about some bastard who wants to collect the money," answered Rita. "He also mentioned "his woman". That's how we learned about you."

"So, your husband worked in a Cayman bank," commented Harry.

"He isn't my husband."

"I see. Could you tell us what happened?"

"He disappeared one day. His colleagues from the bank came first. They didn't tell me what was going on, they just asked where he was. Then the police came. Then those Russians. They said that he stole money from them. They dragged me here."

"This banker of yours, what kind of work was he doing?" asked Harry.

"The banking kind!" growled Teresa.

"I meant if it was somewhat shady."

"I don't know, he never told me anything about his work."

Rita started to get a picture about Teresa. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to pity her.

"So, thank you for sharing," said Harry and clasped his hands. "I think I can continue. I don't actually know everything that happened but I think I can take a guess now. Some time ago, a certain friend of mine, who is now deceased, sent me a letter. It did mention Rita here. Even back then, I thought that she would be a good ally. When my associates learned that I intended to return to England and to have dealings not only with wizards but with a journalist one as well, they decided to cut all ties and communication lines with me."

"Wait, wizards?!" interrupted him Teresa. "Is that supposed to mean something?" She got lost somewhere in the middle of Harry said but that one word was too much.

"A wizard or witch is a person who can do magic. Rita here is a witch. And a journalist."

Teresa looked back and forth at Harry and Rita, trying to see if it was a joke. They seemed quite serious to her.

"Don't ask us to give you a proof," warned her Rita. "We can't do that here and especially not in the car."

"We'd ask you to give us a benefit of the doubt until we arrive to the inn," proposed Harry. "I'd have to warn you though, it's a magical inn. It's not over the top but may see some strange things in there. We need you not to react to them."

There was no helping it however. After everything she had been through, Teresa didn't intend to run blind ever again. She demanded an explanation and a proof. Rita was irritated by her attitude. After all, they weren't supposed to be telling her those things to begin with.

"Rita, maybe you could give Teresa a small demonstration," conceded Harry after some arguing. "Not here, of course. It's too open. Let's continue to the inn and stop again when we reach a suitable area."

Teresa had no idea what was it about. For the moment, she decided to drive on.

They stopped again some time later. There were some trees offering a meagre cover.

"I'll stay in the car," announced Harry. "Go at least ten meters away. Don't do anything flashy. How about those refreshing spells of yours, can those be cast on another person?"

"Of course..." replied Rita, not understanding why it shouldn't be possible.

Harry watched as they walked away. Rita aimed her wand at herself first. He didn't see it from his position but he imagined that Teresa noticed something. Rita turned her wand at Teresa afterwards and repeated the spell. The effects were undeniable. All the sweat and grime on Teresa's body disappeared and she felt refreshed. Feeling smug, Rita asked Teresa if she had any kinks from sleeping in the car. Teresa pointed at a spot at the back of her neck. Rita kneaded it out with a spell. There was actually a potion which was able to do that even better and in a whole body. Next, she cleaned Teresa's clothes.

They returned to the car. Rita didn't wish to do anything more in the same place even though there was more to be done. She drove from that point on because Teresa seemed to need a moment to collect herself. She sat on the back seat and stared out of a side window. All her previous need to learn why did the Russians want to kill them was gone. Harry got an idea how to enhance his façade.

"You'll get motion sickness unless you start looking forward," he remarked. When Teresa ignored him, he continued, "Look, I know that it's a lot to take in. To learn about existence of magic, I mean. But it could be worse. Imagine how was it like for me. No one ever told me any of this so it was quite a shock when magic started to manifest itself through me without my conscious control over it."

"That can happen?" asked Teresa.

"Well, as I learned later, accidental magic is common among children. But my case was different. I lived with my non-magical aunt and her equally mundane family. They stomped all magic and memories of it out of me. Or so they thought. Magic is like flowing water. You can build a dam to stop it but sooner or later, the dam will burst. Especially when someone is trying to kill you."

Teresa didn't ask what had happened.

"How old were you?" she asked instead.

"Six."

"Excuse me, Harry," interrupted them Rita. "Didn't you stress that we need to keep this a secret until we decide what are we going to publish and how are we going to put it? So far, you are telling it to just about anybody."

"So far only you and Teresa. And Mundungus, of course. Well, I guess that actually classifies as everybody. However, I have sincere doubts that Teresa will ever tell anybody any of this. Whether we like it or not, she's part of our story now. She can see how deep the rabbit hole goes just as well."

"The rabbit hole?"

Harry was about to answer but Teresa spoke first.

"The hole to Wonderland. Harry is right - I'm like Alice now."

Rita still didn't understand and Harry started to laugh. He thought that maybe it would be good for Rita to take Teresa with her.

They stopped about a half a kilometre from the inn. They decided to ditch the car. They wiped their fingerprints and Harry removed the car plate. He also disconnected the engine and Rita levitated it out of the car. They heaped those two items, the Makarov, and a few other things together and Rita transfigured it all into a metal cube which they buried nearby. Rita altered Teresa's clothes next to make them look less muggle. They set forth for the inn.

They arrived and asked for a room. They had some time before their next scheduled appointment with the goblins so they decided to continue their conversation.

"So, I was saying that I found myself completely alone," narrated Harry. "That is, until I met Rita. They gave me a parting gift: a name of a bank, an account number, and a password."

Teresa narrowed her eyes. So that was where the stolen money had gone.

"They warned me that the money weren't clean and that I should be careful. I have to admit though, I did not expect a bloody Russian Mafia to come after me. I mean, not Mafia, Russians don't have those. Come to think about it, I believe it's all a test. They want to know how I'm going to handle it all."

"And if you pass, they'll start talking to you again?" asked Rita.

"I doubt that. I think it will merely mean that they won't forget about me. I still have to deal with Dumbledore, remember? But, I shouldn't be talking about these things."

Harry realized that he was on thin ice. Rita was probably imagining clandestine agencies of the non-magical world.

"Do you have any idea where's that asshole who left me in this mess?" growled Teresa.

"No, I don't. My educated guess is that he's enjoying a witness protection somewhere. In other words, you'll never see him again so you can stop compiling that list of nasty things you want to say to him."

Harry didn't have to be good at reading faces to see what Teresa thought about it.

"Look," continued Harry. "I think I've got a very clear picture of what kind of people was he providing services to. And he profited from it. While he didn't kill anybody himself, he still had blood on his hands. That can't be denied."

"And?"

"It means that whatever you've ever accepted from those hands was smeared by the very same blood."

Anger surged in Teresa. Was Harry saying what she thought he was saying?

"Look, I'm not accusing you of anything," added Harry hastily, palms forward. "But look at it this way. Thanks to your ordeal, you can consider yourself to be even with the world. Your karma is in balance and your conscience can be clear. Whatever metaphorical debt you had is paid in full."

Rita sighed and conjured a privacy bubble just in time to prevent anybody outside the room to overhear Teresa's outburst. Harry decided to give Teresa some space and asked Rita what was the spell.

"Cool," he said when she explained. "Can you make it smaller and block or mostly suppress all sound?"

"I guess. Why?"

"Because I would like you to learn means of defending yourself without magic."

Harry pulled out the revolver.

"We don't have time for that," protested Rita. "The meeting's coming up and you still didn't tell me what happened yesterday after I returned." She started by recounting their own encounter with the Russians for Teresa's sake.

A half an hour later, it was time to go the the bank. Rita proposed that all of them should go and no one protested. She warned Teresa not to react oddly to goblins, lest she might offend them. Just like before, they were using the fireplace. Rita went first and then Harry and Teresa together.

Seeing goblins was yet another shock for Teresa. Remembering the warning, she didn't let it show on her face.

They met with the same goblin they had dealt with the previous day. The meeting was quite dull. Rita handled it while Harry and Teresa sat silently.

The goblin and Rita discarded an idea of renting an actual vault and settled on a "normal" account instead. They didn't wish to store any effects after all, only money. In the end, Rita asked whether they could make travelling arrangements for them. Such as procuring an international Portkey.

"We don't normally do that," replied the goblin with a slight sneer. "But yes, we can purchase a reliable Portkey from third party for you."

That gave Rita an idea. She turned around and met eyes with Teresa.

"Excuse me, would you mind us stepping away for a moment while you finish the paperwork?" she asked.

"By all means."

"What was that about?" asked Harry once they were out of earshot.

"I have an offer for Teresa," explained Rita. "I was thinking about moving to United States for about a year and lay low until you know who stops looking for me."

She meant Dumbledore, of course. She didn't dare to speak his name where she might be overheard. Her plan was to return to Britain eventually and start laying foundations of her plans for when the public would learn that Harry didn't arrive to Hogwarts.

Teresa thought about it. She could return to Cayman Islands but what would she do there? There wasn't anything useful she could do, besides some moderate skills in cooking and cleaning. She was quite sure that she didn't want to find herself a new rich benefactor.

"I could use somebody non-magical to help me blend in," supplemented Rita.

Teresa corrected herself. She didn't want to find herself a male benefactor from a banking sector. Attaching herself to a magical journalist lady and aiding her in a quest which she did not understand yet was an entirely different matter.

"I see," commented Harry. "There's one question, Teresa. Do you want to live there under your real identity?"

"Why?" asked Rita. "Do you've got another fake passport hidden somewhere?"

"I want to be there as myself, if that's OK," disagreed Teresa.

They returned to the goblin and made arrangements for a two-point Portkey for two people. It was going to take Rita and Teresa first to Cayman Islands and then to Florida. Harry requested another one to Russia for himself.

When all their business was done, they returned to the inn. Harry and Rita told Teresa more of their story, especially the parts concerning Dumbledore. Harry gave Rita all his possessions (the wand, the revolver, etc.) for safekeeping.

* * *

A day later, an old and powerful "godfather" of a Russian bratva was woken up in a middle of a night by one of his men. His initial disgruntlement over being woken up was replaced by anger when he learned that his team in Switzerland had been wiped out. He swore that somebody was going to pay for it.

He poured himself a glass of vodka and downed it. He went to a bathroom to take a leak. He was washing his hands when something dripped on his shoulder. He touched it and examined the slimy substance on his fingers.

Finally, he looked up. There was no time to scream, Harry's inner jaw penetrated his skull. When the monster was done, it ripped the man's head and spine out of his body.

* * *

At morning, a phone rang in a residence of yet another leader of yet another Russian criminal organisation. Somebody picked it up and rushed to the leader with the information. The caller claimed that a leader of their competition was dead. They had means to verify it so they were going to do just that first. Alas, if it was true, then they needed to make their move quickly.

Later that day, when they knew for sure that the information was legit, the leader of the organisation contacted an associate of theirs who was a KGB agent and apprised him of the unexpected development.

When the said KGB agent put the phone down, he turned to his guest and excused himself. The matter required his immediate attention.

"That's all right," assured him Dumbledore. "I was going to get on my way anyway. Just keep an eye for what I've told you, Nikolai."

"Yes, of course."

Nikolai was a squib and one of many Dumbledore's contacts and associates. He was an older man himself but a generation or two younger than Dumbledore. His connection to him was through Grindelwald who was responsible for the death of his parents. Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and thus Nikolai felt a certain loyalty to him. And it was a matter concerning Grindelwald which prompted Dumbledore's visit that day.


	5. Treasure Hunt

Treasure Hunt

Rita lowered her book lazily and sipped from her mojito. She put the drink down and engrossed herself in the book again. She didn't read just because it was entertaining but because by reading master writers, she was fine-tuning her own writing style. She had a feeling that she was going to need it more than ever before. Her readers weren't going to judge her story about Harry by their brains but by their hearts. A proper presentation was going to be crucial. After all, it wasn't just his own future that was at stake - she was his accomplice.

Rita lowered the book again to look where Teresa was. She spotted her in the sea after a few moments. Teresa was swimming a lot, just like when she was living on Cayman Islands. The only difference was that she was doing it for her own health this time around and not because she needed to keep her figure in shape for some rich bastard.

Suddenly, Teresa shrieked. Rita dropped her book, thinking that something was wrong. She saw that Teresa wasn't drowning and that somebody surfaced next to her. Teresa let out a string of cussing and the person started to laugh. It was Harry.

Rita rolled her eyes. Harry made his way to the beach, mockingly running away from Teresa who was spraying water at him. At certain point, both women realized that Harry was naked. Rita ran forth and fetched him Teresa's towel.

Later on, when they were sitting around the table, drinking lemonade, Harry asked, "Do you still have my wand and the revolver?"

"Yes, of course," answered Rita.

"I guess you haven't been practising with it, right?"

"We've been to a range," answered Teresa. "The instructor taught us some basics with a .22LR revolver."

Rita rolled her eyes. When they arrived there, Teresa made sure to emphasize to the instructor that Rita didn't know anything about shooting. Looking back, Rita was glad that Teresa had done that because the instructor's diligence prevented an accident probably.

"Good," commended them Harry. "You need to learn some basics of defensive shooting. As I've said before, there are bound to be occasions on which we'll need to avoid usage of magic."

"We?" asked Rita.

"Yes. I've decided to learn a little bit of spell-casting. Later. Now, we need to get more ammo so you two can train."

Harry had some vague memories of gun laws of various American states but he was uncertain about Florida.

"You can buy ammo without a licence here," supplied Teresa. "And there won't be even any record of it. Probably." She had done the research.

"That's good to hear. Although we don't need to go that far. Powder, primers, and projectiles will suffice. That's an even smaller probability of leaving a record somewhere."

Next day, the three of them assembled in the basement of Rita's and Teresa's bungalow. There was a crude plank board on a sturdy wooden stand at one end of the basement. The wall behind it was lined with sandbags. There was a paper with a painted target pinned to the plank board. Any electronics in the house were turned off and disconnected from the grid. There was no need for any drastic measures for what they had in mind.

"Let's get started," announced Harry. "Rita, as we have discussed, please."

The witch pulled her wand and cast a silencing charm so it created a bubble around the gun.

"Thank you," continued Harry. "Now, these rounds are subsonic but it would be a good idea to use these."

He held out cotton balls. They plugged their ears with it.

Harry assumed position and Rita and Teresa moved behind him. Harry loaded three chambers in the cylinder and took aim. He didn't need to at such a short range but he wanted to demonstrate the technique.

He cocked with his thumb and fired first shot. There was almost no sound of the shot itself. The only sound was that of the flying bullet (and the impact). Harry fired next two shots quickly, cocking with his left hand.

"Well done, Rita. It works," he commended her and removed the cotton balls from his ears. "The test is over, let's get to the instruction."

He put all ammo away and brought six plastic snap caps. He taught the ladies how to load and unload the revolver, how to manipulate with the weapon safely and how to disassemble it. Evening came before either woman got to pull the trigger. Neither of them questioned the fact that a "little" boy was teaching them how to handle a firearm.

In following days, they continued with the training. Harry also started to learn about magic from Rita. He had consumed memories about magic from Mundungus so he didn't hide the fact that he had general theoretical knowledge about magic. He also asked Teresa to observe their lessons sometimes to gain some general idea about the topic.

Rita didn't bother reminding him that it was too early for him to start with magic. He was an animagus after all. She proposed to teach him a disarming spell but he had another idea.

"I don't think I need combat spells so much," he said. "I was thinking more about concealment. Isn't there a spell that will give you some kind of a masking? Like a chameleon or better."

"Well, there is the disillusionment charm," proposed Rita.

"Yes, I think I've heard about that one. How does it work?"

"Well, I think it actually conjures a kind of ethereal, viscous substance which possesses chameleon-like properties."

"Sounds good. Can you show it to me? Something small scale will suffice."

Not wanting to do too much magic in the house, they made a trip of it.

"Give me your hand," told him Rita after they found a secluded spot.

Harry stretched out his hand and Rita tapped it with her wand, saying the incantation. Nothing happened.

"Is that it?" asked Harry.

"No, I failed. This is conjuration, basically. It will take me a while."

It took her four tries, five minutes of rest, and then two more tries before she finally managed to cast the spell. Harry felt a sensation as if somebody broke an egg over his hand. It trickled around it until it formed some kind of a glove. When it stabilised, Harry saw that the substance at the top of the hand projected what was bellow it. He leaned his head to a side.

"Wait a minute!" he exclaimed and walked to a nearby tree. He pressed his arm against the bark and used the other hand to fix it firmly in place. The new image settled and stabilized in a moment.

"What is it?" asked Teresa.

Harry moved his head from side to side and up and down. It didn't matter from which direction and position he looked. Obviously, that was a necessary feature for it to work fully.

"Check this out," he beckoned to Teresa.

"What do you've got there?" asked them Rita, befuddled by their behaviour.

"What is this?" inquired Harry. "Some kind of holography?"

"I don't understand," replied Rita.

Harry explained. Rita still didn't understand why that was special.

"Never mind," surrendered Harry. "It works, that's what matters. I wonder though, can it be cast without a wand?"

"I beg your pardon? You can't do magic without a wand."

"I'm quite sure that you know that it isn't entirely true."

"Very well, some magic can be done without a wand. However, the right question is whether you'll be able to cast it at all! I'm willing to believe that your magical capability is mature at this point but that doesn't make you any different than first years at Hogwarts. Student's don't even come anywhere near this kind of spell until after OWLs. Maybe you should try levitation charm first."

"I don't want to do the kind of spells first years do. I want to learn this one. I think it could be useful."

Rita sighed and they got to the business. As expected, Harry didn't succeed in casting the spell that day.

Days passed and the lives of the three slipped into a routine. Magic session outside of home in morning, mundane training in afternoon, and discussing future plans in evening.

"You know, I've been thinking," opened up Harry one evening.

"About what?" asked Rita.

"Getting some kind of a magical transportation vehicle. You know, like a broom."

"You want to get a broomstick?"

"What would you do with a broom?" asked Teresa, though she suspected already that he meant a flying broom.

"Not a broom," said Harry. "Something meant for water. I would hold onto it and it would pull me."

"Wait a minute," exclaimed Teresa. "That will never work. Have you ever tried to get into water and hold onto a rope tied to a boat? Even at really small speeds, you won't be able to hold on. The flow of water around you will rip you off it. Or did you mean to use some kind of water skis? If that's what you want to try then there are a couple of business nearby which provide that sort of fun."

"No, more like underwater."

"That won't work," maintained Teresa.

"Leave that to me."

Rita listened to their exchange without saying anything. Harry realized that he told her too much once again. She understood that Harry's animal form was something aerodynamic, suitable for swimming underwater, and capable of holding onto something. There was no helping it, Harry needed her help. Until he grew old enough to use a plane inconspicuously, oceans were his means of getting around the world. He thought about learning to apparate but he doubted his ability to learn it any time soon. Somehow, it didn't seem like his area.

"Well, if Harry wants a water broom, so be it," said Rita finally. "You are reaching an age when a boy should have one anyway. Chronologically speaking, of course. I wonder though, do you really need it?"

"Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

"Well, maybe it's just another of your little projects to keep us busy. You know, so we wouldn't get to other things on our agenda."

"That's not my intention."

Rita interlinked her hands, rested her chin on then for a few seconds, and asked, "Do you trust me, Harry?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "How do you mean that exactly? I thought that we've got an understanding to keep certain secrets from each other for a case that one of us gets captured by Dumbledore. Other than that, I trust you every bit as I trusted Fletcher. Possibly even a little bit more."

"Fair enough. It's just that we should get on with a certain thing and you seem to be avoiding it."

"And what's that? Bringing Dumbledore down?"

"Writing your story. I need to hear about your childhood."

Harry let out an exasperated sigh.

"We haven't even decided how we want to approach that one," he argued. "We don't know what kind of a story are we going to need. It all depends on our strategy concerning Dumbledore when we strike."

"That doesn't matter at this moment. I need source material because every story must be based on the truth."

"And I think that me telling you would put you in unnecessary temptation. Consider this, how would the public react to a raw story about a fucked up kid?"

"I'm not going to release a raw story! Also, there may not be time later."

Harry tossed his hands. They could go round and round like that forever.

"I'll make you a deal," he said finally.

"Yes?"

"Us being able to take care of ourselves is more important. So, I'll tell you the story when you successfully finish the following drill in two seconds: You draw the revolver from a concealed carry position and double tap each of three targets positioned ten meters from you."

"She'll never be able to do that!" exclaimed Teresa before Rita could respond.

"OK! Three seconds!" conceded Harry.

"That will still take many years to learn."

"Very well. Two targets, ten meters, two seconds, one hit on each target. And that's quite a low bar."

Teresa rolled her eyes but she didn't say anything.

"That sounds like a challenge," responded Rita. "We have a deal."

A week later, Harry managed to conjure a small amount of the concealment goo. That night, he left a note that he was going to be back in a day or two and checked that Rita was sleeping. He grabbed "his" wand and swam away.

Using his monster form, he reached a small rocky island far enough from the coast. He changed into a human, conjured the goo, dropped the wand, and transformed back to a monster. He lost hold on the goo during the process. It was going to be a long night.

The women woke up in the morning and found out that Harry was gone. Rita read the note and assumed that he was practising magic somewhere.

"What are we going to do today?" asked Teresa.

"I think I'm going to this town. It's fifty miles inland. Do you think you could join me? I don't think I can drive so far alone and I can't apparate there yet."

"What's there?"

"There's supposed to be a hidden magical post office. I'm thinking about writing to a broom manufacturer."

"You mean like an owl office?"

"Like an owl office but without the owls. To be honest, I don't know how it works."

"Well, now I'm curious."

About an hour after they left, a speedboat arrived to the beach and dropped anchor. It was Nikolai. He walked up to the bungalow and knocked on the door.

"Ms. Clarke?" he called when no one answered. "Is anybody home?"

He looked around and picked the lock. He searched around and quickly confirmed that it was indeed Joan Clarke who lived there. He also found out that Teresa shared the house with her. That was curious but somehow, he wasn't too surprised. He noted that there was probably a third person living there but he had no idea who. Nikolai made sure not to disturb anything.

He made photos of everything and continued downstairs. He discovered the little "shooting range" there. He found the gun and examined it, being careful not to touch it.

Nikolai turned around and wanted to leave the basement. However, he bumped into something. That left him completely confused because he didn't see anything at first. Then the image of the basement in front of him moved. It was strange, as if somebody took a stereoscopic photo of the basement, glued it to a wall, accidentally trapped something under it, and then that something moved. He was grabbed.

Harry wasn't sure what to do about the man. He didn't know who it was but he was snooping around. There was only one way to learn the truth.

He grabbed him by one claw by the top of his head and by other claw at his lower jaw. He pried Nikolai's mouth wide open and positioned his own over it. His inner jaw penetrated Nikolai's palate. It was high time - it seemed that Nikolai was going to die from the shock and trauma any moment.

Harry changed into his human form when he was done and when he was sure that no blood was being spilled on the floor. He emptied Nikolai's pockets. The only weapon he had was a telescopic baton. Harry wrapped the body in a shower curtain and thought about what he had learned. It seemed like a fantastic coincidence that Nikolai knew Dumbledore. Such kind of coincidence happened only in movies. Then again, a KGB agent with a shady connection to Dumbledore was just as likely to have a shady connection to a Russian bratva.

He went to secure the speedboat better. There was nothing of interest in there but it was rented. He returned inside and started practising Nikolai's handwriting.

When Rita and Teresa returned hours later, they found Harry awaiting them.

"We had an uninvited guest," he told them and nodded at a pile of items.

Rita narrowed her eyes and asked, "And?"

"The body is in the basement. Please don't examine it."

Teresa felt faint momentarily. There they went again. Rita peeked down and returned back up.

"Who was that?"

"KGB. A friend of a bratva competing with our old enemies. I don't think he meant us any harm, just an investigation. He learned too much though."

"How did he find us?" asked Teresa.

"He tracked down Joan Clarke..." started Harry.

"Who cleared the Switzerland account," finished Rita.

"I think those accounts are no longer as secret as they used to be," observed Teresa.

"It's possible that goons of the other bratva interrogated some survivors after they brought down the competition. That would give them the name and maybe the hotel where we were staying."

"We killed a KGB agent!" reminded them Teresa.

Harry liked that she said "we".

"Yes, a lot of unwanted heat," admitted Harry. "We need to make it look like he didn't die here. Luckily, I know their cipher and he actually had his coding phrase written down. That's all I need to send a fake message back home. Hopefully. Still, you two need to move."

They started to plan. Rita and Teresa were going to move to Canada. They heard about a small magical "community" hidden somewhere in Northwest Territories. It wasn't even a village but it had a store, a post office, and a pub with a fireplace. Rita and Teresa could buy a cottage somewhere near and utilize that infrastructure.

It became clear during their discussion that Harry wasn't going with them. He insinuated that he had matters concerning Nikolai to take care of. Rita didn't try to dissuade him. They agreed to meet again in New York in two years in case they lost track of each other. They finished their plans well before sunset.

Once it was dark enough, they moved the body to the speedboat. Harry drove to the same island where he had practised disillusionment. Rita repeated her old corpse disposal technique there (transfiguration into wood and burning). They returned the boat to the rental service without being seen.

Next day, Harry called Nikolai's contact in West Germany. After he authorized himself, he read to him a string nonsensical letters and numbers. When decoded, they read, "False lead. Returning to Europe. Will report soon."

Rita and Harry apparated to the post office which she and Teresa had visited the previous day. There was a reply from the broom manufacturer. It seemed that Harry wasn't first to think about such a thing.

The office had a fireplace so the two of them travelled there right away. They met with one of the enchanters.

"I'm working on a rather unique project," explained Harry. "It requires a very important and critical element: a source of motility. Something like one of your brooms, let's say. However, there's no need for a lift. Just forward motion."

The wizard narrowed his eyes and replied, "Yes. We've worked on things like that before."

"I know. Alas, I'm not talking about a water toy here. It needs to be fast. As your fastest broom."

The wizard looked at Rita and told her, "Ma'am, you do realize that whatever is done with it must not break the Statute of Secrecy."

"Just like one can't fly a broom above a city square full of muggles," responded Harry.

"Very well."

The wizard told them his estimate for the custom job and Rita gave him the money. They went outside.

"I think I'm going to stay here and work with him," announced Harry.

Rita asked whether he wanted her to pick him from the post office later but he refused. She went back to the post office while Harry stayed with the wizard who was making his "water-broom" for a few hours. The wizard promised to send it to the post office in several days. Harry used a fireplace to get back to the post office and travelled on foot from there.

In next few days, Harry made schemes concerning his next gambit. He also helped Teresa pack while Rita planned their move to Canada. They thought about selling the bungalow but decided to keep it as a real investment in the end.

"How long are you going to be gone?" asked Rita one evening.

"I don't know. A year, maybe two."

"You won't be just throwing KGB of Nikolai's trail, aren't you?"

"To be honest, I've got this amusing idea to rattle Dumbledore a little bit. Don't worry, he won't learn about me or you."

"Still, it's risky."

"Everything is risky."

"Than maybe you could throw me a little herring."

Harry looked from Rita's face to Teresa's, sighed, and said, "As you wish. I think this is a good time for you two to open that last bottle of wine in the fridge."

"I have no recollection of my parents," he started. "My earliest memories start in Privet Drive, number 4..."

He told them about his early years with the Dursleys. He didn't mind doing that, he was rather detached from that life. Rita noted how everything fit her research. Harry didn't continue past the moment when he glimpsed the monster in TV for the first time. He still didn't know how he was going to narrate that part of his life without saying anything important. Teresa had an urge to comment how dreadful it had been for Harry to grow in such an environment but she had a feeling that he didn't want to be pitied.

They said their farewells two days later. Rita and Teresa drove away in their car. Rita was behind the wheel so Teresa was free to wave at Harry who waved back. He had to admit, the woman was growing on him.

The car was still in sight when he took his T-shirt and sandals off. He inserted his wand in a slot inside his new "vehicle" and waded into the sea. With broad strokes, he moved away from the beach. After a while, he activated his propeller and let it pull him at a low speed. When he was far enough, he dived down, transformed, and brought the broom to its full speed. He had to admit that it was faster than using his own strength.

* * *

Harry stopped in West Germany first. From there, he sent a letter to a contact address which Dumbledore had given to Nikolai. When cross-referenced with knowledge taken from Fletcher, Harry came to believe that it was Alastor Moody's address.

The letter was titled "For Dumbledore" and read:

 _I've found a possible lead which could corroborate your theory. I need to report to my superiors now but I'll travel to Romania right afterwards. I'll attempt to send you another message through their ministry. Failing to do that, I'll send another letter to this address through mundane means yet again.  
Caution urges me to account for a possibility that I may find more and sooner than I expect. Be prepared to send your people after me. _

The letter was very vague and contained no obvious references to the magical world which was only fitting because Harry was sending it by mundane post.

He made a copy of the letter and sent both of them from two different places to ensure arrival of the message. Then he headed eastward.

It was ridiculously easy for him to cross the Iron Curtain. He estimated that it was going to fall in a year or two anyway.

He sent a message from East Germany to his superiors. He wasn't sure what they were going to make of it but it didn't really matter.

His next steps led to Transylvania. He didn't bother with non-magical world in there at first. Instead, he went to a magical pub. Fletcher had visited it once. Harry went to the bar and waited until the barkeep noticed him.

"Aren't you a little bit young to be here without your parents?" asked him the wizard.

Harry made a show of being startled and shy and replied, "I don't have parents. Not alive, I mean."

The older wizard nodded, not asking when and how they had died. The war with Voldemort wasn't the only option.

"I'm trying to collect information for a school project," continued Harry. He looked like a third year so his claim wasn't too far fetched. "I've noticed that you've got some books back there. Would you mind if I browsed through them while I wait for food?"

"That's why they are there. What you'll be eating?"

"Pea soap, please."

Harry paid in advance and went to search the bookcase. He found what he was looking for soon enough: a treatise on Transylvanian vampires. He started to read.

"Put the book away while you eat," told him the barkeep when he brought the soup. "You can return to it after the meal."

Harry ate the soap and resumed the reading.

"Closing time," told him the barkeep several hours later. "You don't intend to go to talk to them, right?" he asked and nodded at the book.

"Would it be ill advised?"

"They don't like to be bothered, you know. Even an adult wizard shouldn't go there without a serious reason. A mere boy like you might just disappear in those mountains."

"Very well, I'll write an introduction into the topic and if my teachers find it worthwhile, they'll send somebody with me."

"Suit yourself," concluded the barkeep.

Harry sent another letter for Dumbledore to Alastor's address:

 _I'm in the city of Turda. The lead panned out. I'll investigate further. If I'm not here to meet your people, I'll leave a message in the Inn on Balaban._

Harry travelled into the mountains where vampires were rumoured to live. He needed to explore the region a little. He had to be extra careful not to be detected and that was going to be more difficult than ever because neither shadows nor his camouflage could help him in that regard. Allowing himself to be seen in either form would cause him troubles later on.

After he returned, he stopped at the (non-magical) inn where he was supposed to leave a message for Dumbledore's people. He sneaked in at night and dropped the message among the others. That way, no one was going to know who left it there.

Having time to kill on his hands, he returned to the mountains to explore a little bit more and finalise his plan.

* * *

Dumbledore's people arrived to Turda more than a month later. Harry observed them, hidden by light disguise and by blending among passers-by. There were no crowds but there was still enough people to provide cover.

Harry saw that his work wasn't going to be easy. Alastor Moody was with them. Then again, maybe luck was on Harry's side - he noticed that Moody had lost an eye since the last time Fletcher had seen him. He couldn't really tell from the distance but the wound looked fresh. It seemed that he had not procured a magical replacement yet (if it was indeed possible at all). It was probable that he wasn't used to having only one eye yet.

There were two more people with him. A witch and a wizard. They looked to be on the older side but younger than Moody. Harry had a feeling that Mundungus Fletcher had met at least one of them at some point but either he didn't remember them well or Harry didn't extract the information from his brain.

The man was left in a magical pub to ask around and find out if the pub provided lodging. Moody and the witch went to the non-magical inn mentioned in Harry's letter. Harry found it strange that Moody didn't send the wizard instead of him - Moody stood out more than the other man after all. Maybe Moody was better versed in interacting with non-magicals.

Harry didn't tail Moody and the witch. He had no doubt that Moody would be able to spot him. He went ahead instead and waited there.

Moody and the witch arrived and went straight to the reception.

"Is there a message from Nikolai? Most probably for Dumbledore?" he asked.

"Excuse me, who are you again? Are you a guest?" asked the receptionist.

Moody flicked his wand under his coat and confused the receptionist who turned around and checked.

"Indeed," he announced. "Most strange. I remember seeing this letter here for some time now."

Moody grabbed the letter and they stepped aside. He opened the envelope and scanned Harry's message briefly.

"Let's go back," he told the witch and they left.

Harry didn't dare to follow them back to the magical pub, either directly or indirectly. Moody was missing an eye but the remaining one wasn't blind.

Harry waited till next day before he went to check on them. They were gone. There were no fresh scent trails. That meant that they had teleported straight from the pub. Harry left the town and ran to the mountains, hoping to find their trail.

* * *

"Done," reported the witch to Moody. She was talking about wards around their camp.

Moody didn't look away from a vista he was contemplating at the moment and replied, "Very well. I'm taking first watch. You two hit the bunks now."

The witch didn't leave. She observed Moody observing rugged mountains looming in front of them for a moment before she asked him, "We've been searching for any trace of this Nikolai for two days now. His letters and the message he's left for us are vague at best. How can we be sure that chasing after this muggle isn't a waste of time? And what is it that you and Dumbledore are after actually?"

"I can't tell you that, Heather," insisted Moody, finally turning to the witch. "There's something I can assure of, however. Albus briefed me about Nikolai when that first letter arrived. He didn't expect to hear from him, he was just another string in a net he threw. That he found something is a proof that he's no mere muggle. As a matter of fact, he's a squib. That doesn't matter though. What matters is that he's personally motivated in this."

"Personally motivated? Isn't he a Russian? I thought that You-know-who didn't operate that far."

"This isn't about him."

That silenced Heather for a moment.

"Enough questions," asserted Moody. "Go to sleep. And don't tell Michael about what we've been just talking about. Albus trusts this guy and that should be good enough for us."

Heather didn't prod any further and went to her tent. Moody turned back toward the mountains. Sun was below the horizon already but there was still enough light to illuminate clouds crowning the peaks. The whole image was a sort of dark and ominous in a somewhat cliché way. The presence of vampires certainly complicated things and maybe that was one of the reasons why Gellert Grindelwald had chosen the location.

There was another reason why Moody believed that they were on the right track. He didn't intend to tell his companions yet but he had a feeling that something was observing them. Ever since they had arrived in Turda. Maybe a vampire, maybe something or somebody else. It was coming and going but his gut was telling him that something was out there. Maybe it was Nikolai himself, turned into a vampire.

Moody wasn't sure whether it was right to risk Heather's and Michael's lives like that. Another person would probably choose to call for reinforcements but Moody didn't wish to scare their shadow away.

With nothing better to do, Moody went to check Heather's wards. He scratched the area around his missing eye and thought about how this trip caught him at a really inconvenient time.

Heather woke the two wizards up in the morning (she had the last watch).

"Someone was here at night," she told them right away.

"Where?" asked Michael sleepily.

"In our camp!" intoned Heather, looking straight at him.

"Why are you looking at me?" retorted Michael defensively. "And how do you know anyway?"

Moody gave Heather a look saying that he wanted to hear that himself.

Heather took a breath and answered, "At the end of my watch, I decided to start making a breakfast. That was when I noticed that some of our supplies were missing!"

"That's ridiculous!" laughed Michael. "Who would want to steal our food? Anyway, we can always duplicate whatever we've got left."

As a matter of fact, that was exactly what they had been doing since the beginning.

Moody ignored the comments and asked, "When do you think this happened?"

"Well it didn't happen on my watch," she drawled.

"Now wait a minute!" protested Michael.

"Have you left your post during your watch?" boomed Moody at him. "Was there ever a time when you weren't paying attention?"

"Apart from when I needed to take a shit? Never."

"And how long exactly did it take you?" pressed Moody.

"Oh come on! We are talking about a delicate business which needs time and patience. Besides, my guts are sometimes stubborn when I travel."

"You should have woken me to keep watch in the meantime!" reprimanded him Moody.

"Hey! There's no evidence that it happened then. Besides, the wards were supposed to detect it."

"There's nothing wrong with the wards," snapped Heather.

"True enough," agreed Moody. "I checked them myself. However, the wards were meant for people or vampires. Or werewolves for that matter. But some animals can pass through them, right?"

"Yes," agreed Heather. "We don't want them to be triggered by every passing mouse. However, this doesn't look like a mouse. Too much is missing. Besides, it was removed too carefully. I didn't notice anything until I wanted to start preparing breakfast."

"Well, let's take a look," proposed Moody.

When they were cataloguing their remaining supplies, Moody noted that all fruit was missing. Magic wasn't going to help them in that regard. Moody looked at the grey sky and had a fleeting thought which slipped away as quickly as it came.

"Any theories?" asked Michael.

"Two," answered Moody. "One is that there is a vampire with some rudimentary magical skills which allowed him to get in here undetected."

Heather and Michael touched their necks to feel for any evidence of being "sampled".

"No, none of us have been bitten," continued Moody. "There are two explanations for that. If the vampire could slip through our wards, then he or she could also feel our personal wards." He was talking about alarm wards on each of them which would alert the other two if one of them was attacked. "Alas, I think that he merely wishes to mess with us."

Once again, he was thinking about Nikolai. He had never met the man but Albus told him enough about him. Maybe he was truly turned and was partially "cured" from being a squib in the process. As an agent of one of the world's superpowers, he probably had a natural talent for stealth. And maybe he was afraid of showing himself right away.

"And the other theory?" asked Heather.

"We are dealing with a muggleborn child."

"Are you serious?" snorted Michael.

"Think about it. The war with Grindelwald made a real mess here. For all we know, there are muggleborns slipping through the system here all the time. Or maybe not even muggleborns. We've lost Harry Potter for crying out loud. Now, this child spots us. Back in Turda, let's say. He or she is too afraid to go to the pub but we seem like an easier target. And let's say that he or she was living under radar for the whole time so slipping under our wards could be chalked up to accidental or rather instinctive magic. The thief being a child would also explain why only fruit is missing and not meat, vegetables, and booze."

"How would the kid follow us here from Turda?" sneered Michael.

"I don't know! It's just a theory."

They debated the matter for a good part of the morning. In the end, the result was just the same: they were without fruit. Turda wasn't the nearest place where they could replenish their supplies but it was the last one that they visited. Hence, apparating back there was the fastest way to get to a store. Somehow, it seemed foolish to go all the way back just because of fruit. Moody pulled out a map to check if there was anything along their way. They failed to notice that the fruit wasn't all that was missing.

They reached a small mountain village (about a kilometre and half above sea level) that day. It was actually hamlet-sized to tell the truth. There was no post office or a store and no electricity. However, there was a church and a holiday inn (which also served as a pub for locals). The holiday inn was the only thing which broke the hamlet's traditional atmosphere and most probably the only source of commerce in the settlement and the reason why the hamlet was marked on maps.

They went to the inn first. As it turned out, it wasn't open for business because it wasn't a holiday season. Hence, they didn't have any supplies to sell - not even apples or pears. The pub had only non-perishables to offer in the terms of food at the present time. It wasn't going to open till late afternoon but the barkeep offered them some snacks anyway. Moody declined politely and said that they could stop by later. Before leaving, he asked about Nikolai. The barkeep shook his head - no outsiders were seen in the hamlet in last month.

Their next stop was the church. Moody told his two companions to wait outside and went in alone. The only person in there at the moment was an old deacon who acted as a sexton at the same time. Moody asked him if he could ask a few questions and the deacon agreed.

While they talked, Michael and Heather had to endure strange looks from passing locals. While the villagers were accustomed to outsiders staying at the holiday inn in winter and summer for some healthy hiking or skying in fresh mountain air, they didn't have that many visitors off-season.

Inside the church, Moody interviewed the deacon. Nikolai had not stopped there. That was logical - a catholic clergyman was a last person who would help a KGB agent. Moody learned something else however - there was a villa above the village. It was inhabited by a pair of recluses. It seemed like the deacon had more to say but refrained from doing so out of politeness. Moody filed the information away for later.

Other than that, the deacon confirmed what Moody knew already. Hikers (skiers) arrived during summer and winter holidays when the inn was open. There was never more of them than ten at a time. They never stayed for long and all of them complained about low oxygen levels. Once again, the deacon didn't elaborate and Moody started ot have suspicions.

"Any headaches so far?" asked Moody when he left the church.

Heather and Michael shook their heads. The air wasn't so thin yet.

"Let's have a look around before we head back to the inn," ordered Moody.

It took them some time but they found a guy who had a crate of apples in his cellar and was willing to sell them some. When he learned that they wanted only three of them, he shook his head and gave them away for free. Truth to be told, they needed only one but that would be suspicious.

They returned to the inn. It was open but no patrons arrived yet. That suited Moody, he wanted to talk to the barkeep. They ordered garlic soup and Michael, after being prodded by Moody, ordered wine. Moody and Heather wanted to keep their heads clean (they were wizards after all).

When their conversation with the barkeep was over, they all had a quite clear picture. There was a couple of vampires living in the villa above the village (most probably). They left the locals alone but preyed on any tourists who chalked up their light-headedness to thinner air.

"Finally!" rejoiced Michael when they left. "If we are right then we've just found first serious source of information since we left Turda."

Moody and Heather didn't say anything. They didn't wish to echo his sentiment nor did they wish to curb his excitement.

The villa wasn't easily accessible. As a matter of fact, there wasn't even a proper road leading there. That alone raised questions how it had been constructed.

When they reached the villa, they saw that it wasn't made of bricks but of stones. Still, even the cement alone had to be a pain to get up there - unless you were a vampire. Then again, the villa looked quite old. Maybe they simply bought it and renovated it.

Moody knocked on the door and motioned to the others to keep their distance.

"We don't accept any visitors," called a woman from inside.

"Well, we aren't your usual visitors," responded Moody.

To prove his point, Heather drew her wand and pointed it at a male vampire who was hiding in a forest.

"Wizards," remarked the vampire. He spoke English but with heavy Romanian accent.

"Good afternoon," said Moody with a slight bow. "Or should I say good morning?"

The vampire bowed back and asked, "May I inquire about the reason of your visit?"

"Don't worry, we come in peace. Paragraph twelve and all. Can we talk?"

"I suppose you've brought blood flavoured lollipops to loosen our lips?" asked the vampire sarcastically.

"Now now, that would be weird. We aren't in a kindergarten. However, it's in your best interest to talk to us since it may concern you as well."

The vampire nodded in consent. The sun was setting so he left the shade of the forest and walked to the front entrance. His mate opened the door and greeted the visitors, with more politeness this time. The male gestured with his arm courtly.

"I can come in alone if you wish," proposed Moody even though the gesture was meant for all three of them. Truth to be told, he didn't want Heather and Michael to listen.

"I insist," said the vampire.

The female showed them in. They all introduced to each other. The vampires were Vasile and Ana (if they were telling the truth). They sat down in a parlour.

"I would offer you some tea but we don't have any," said Ana.

"That's quite all right," assured her Moody. "You've got a lovely house though. Are there any other vampires living this low and so close to humans?"

"No, I believe not."

"How can we help you?" asked Vasile, cutting the chitchat.

Moody asked about Nikolai. Had they seen him? Had any people been changed in the area?

"As you might know, we, vampires living in these mountains, have strong policies against making new vampires," answered Vasile. "More of us means more feeding which means higher profile. This has been made clear to us when we moved here."

"You weren't changed here?" reacted Moody. "Where are you from?"

"I believe that's none of your business," rebuffed him Vasile.

"Fair enough," admitted Moody. "Please continue."

"You know, it's actually quite interesting for you to show up when you did," divulged Vasile, seemingly changing the subject. "Let me ask you this: Have you sent somebody else before you?"

"Why do you ask?" asked Moody back, not understanding what was Vasile getting at. "Besides, I've told you already."

"Yes, Nikolai. I'm not talking about him."

"Could you elaborate, please?"

Vasile and Ana shared a look.

"Somebody was snooping around here when we were away," she explained.

"When was this?" asked Moody.

"About several weeks ago."

"Nikolai," uttered Moody. His theory seemed more and more realistic.

"It wasn't him," insisted Vasile. "We are quite sure that it wasn't a non-magical."

"I've told you already, maybe he's no longer human," reiterated Moody.

"It wasn't a vampire either. The scent was unlike anything we have ever smelled. However, a magical spell could warp a wizard's scent in such a way. Or a magical potion, powder, or another magical item."

"I've told you my opinion already."

Vasile sighed and explained, "Here's the thing. You come here and start asking questions. We have no idea what's going on and what's your business here. How do we know that your goals aren't against interests of vampires living here?"

Moody stood up and started pacing. He stopped, turned to Vasile and responded, "I don't think we should discuss that."

"You know, I would like to know that myself," remarked Michael.

Heather rolled her eyes. He shouldn't have said that in front of the vampires. Moody pierced Michael with his eye.

"Well? We are all waiting," prodded him Vasile. "If you want us to give you anything, you need to give us something in return."

Moody sat down again. He was going to have words with Michael later.

"As you wish," he conceded. "But I must stress that what I'm about to reveal is extremely secret. I need all of you to give me your word that you won't repeat it anywhere to anyone. It's bad enough that I'm about to reveal it to two people I don't know very well."

Everybody gave him their words and Moody continued, "I presume you two know who Gellert Grindelwald is?"

Heather smirked. Her suspicions were confirmed.

"Indeed," confirmed Vasile. "We also know who Dumbledore is."

"Yes, yes. Everybody knows Dumbledore. Back to Grindelwald. Maybe it was before your time but many vampires joined forces with him."

"Quite. But yes, we've heard."

"And I assume that you've been told by local vampires that it brought nothing but troubles to them?"

Vasile nodded.

"Than we can agree that it would be in your best interests if he were to never return to power."

That stumped Michael and Heather. They didn't know Dumbledore that well but others had told them that he believed that Gellert had no intention of doing such a thing. Vasile and Ana waited for Moody to continue.

"There was a theory that Grindelwald created something. Something bad. It was a far fetched theory but Dumbledore wanted to be thorough. One of the possibilities was that Grindelwald's non-magical associates took this thing to hide it somewhere. Nikolai confirmed this possibility. We believe that it's here, in these very mountains. Unfortunately, we've lost contact with Nikolai."

There was complete silence in the room for a while.

"Now," continued Moody. "I know that the two of you are hiding something. What do you know about Nikolai?"

Vasile and Ana shared another look.

"Very well, we owe it you," admitted Vasile. He went upstairs and returned with a dirty piece of paper. "A boy from the village brought this to us a week ago. There was a bunch of children watching him from afar so we thought that it was just a dare. Then we noticed Dumbledore's name. It's addressed to him or to those who come in his name."

Moody snatched the paper.

"This is his hand-writing!" he exclaimed. "Why haven't you told us about it right away?! Why haven't you contacted the Ministry of Magic a week ago for that matter?"

Michael was disgruntled. All the discomfort they had to go through was because of those two vampires.

"I believe I've told you my reasoning for being careful," defended Vasile himself.

"Where did the boy get it?"

"It was given to him by some haggard man he encountered in woods. He looked exhausted and starved. He asked him to leave the message with us.

"Do you know where we can find the boy?"

"We don't know the people in the village. So no, we don't even know the boy's name."

Moody showed the message to his companions. There was no point in hiding anything since the two vampires had read it too. The message contained directions. Deeper into the mountains.

"Is it possible that there are some vampires here who are still loyal to Grindelwald?" asked Moody after a while.

"No, not to my knowledge."

"But there are vampires living where this leads," said Moody and waved with the paper.

"Of course. As a matter of fact, I believe there are even some with magical abilities. I've heard that they've set up a jamming field over there. No apparating in there."

"And out of there?"

"I don't know. Why don't you try?"

Michael seemed eager to discuss the new findings right away. Moody motioned to him to keep it for later.

Moody asked the vampires if they knew anything else that could help them. The vampires shook their heads. Moody and his companions thanked them for their hospitality and left the house.

"What's going on here?" demanded Michael when they were some distance away. "Grindelwald coming back to power? You can't be serious. Didn't Dumbledore also say that You-know-who was coming back?"

"You talk too much," admonished him Heather. "You shouldn't have spoken like that in front of them."

"I can go home if you don't want me here," growled Michael.

Moody wanted to scold him but then he changed his mind and said instead, "Then why did you agree to come in the first place? Look, the situation is more serious than we originally thought. We were just supposed to check on Nikolai's progress. Now we know that he and Dumbledore were right. And that means that Gellert Grindelwald is far darker and more dangerous then we thought. The three of us aren't quite suited for such a dangerous mission but returning to England would take time."

Moody pointed at his empty eye socket when he said that they (all of them) weren't suited for the mission.

"Is Nikolai still alive?" asked Heather.

"If being a vampire or whatever he has become counts as alive, then yes. It was him who snooped in that villa and who left us this message. Maybe he also stole our fruit and for all know, he has been following us since Turda."

"Why hasn't he contacted us directly?" asked Michael.

They discussed the matter further. Moody spoke at length about how everything they knew about vampires pertained only to vampires created from muggles and how they had no idea what kind of strings were affecting Nikolai or what kind of hell was he going through. It didn't matter what they said, they were all way off the mark.

Back in the villa, the two vampires had a conversation which wasn't any less heated. The strange thing was, they were speaking German. It had seemed before like Romanian was their native tongue before but it became clear that both of them were from Germany.

"Why have you gave them the letter?" asked the female.

"I had no choice, Ilsa!" retorted the male. "That Auror knew that we had it. Maybe he expected it. Maybe he gleamed it from my mind. He was most definitely willing to use magic to get it from us. The twelfth paragraph be dammed."

Ilsa. Not Ana. She had advised her mate to destroy the message. They had memorized it anyway. However, he considered it useful to keep it around, just for case.

"At least we gained some information in return," he added.

"What are we going to do?" asked Ilsa.

"If Dumbledore wants something, then we should act against it."

Dumbledore. The name was hated by them almost as much as it was hated by Death Eaters. Sure, they blamed Grindelwald for loosing to him and they also blamed the Fuhrer for depending on Grindelwald too much but it was Dumbledore who was ultimately to blame for the fall of the Third Reich which had been an event which led them to sacrifice their humanity in the end.

"I'll go where they go," announced the male. "I'll pass them on their way and get there first. If there are any supporters of Grindelwald left there then they need to be warned."

"Is it a wise idea, Heinrich? Those vampires aren't like us. They will treat you like pure-blood wizards would treat a muggle stumbling on their property."

"Gellert Grindelwald envisioned a world where all of us are on the same side. Hopefully they still remember this."

Heinrich hugged Ilsa tightly. He released her only to hike up her sleeve. Her SS ID number tattooed on her underarm was revealed. He kissed it gently.

Vampire transformation is supposed to remove any minor blemishes and defects. The tattoo had been supposed to be removed too. It didn't happen to either of them. Perhaps they considered them to be parts of their personalities.

"Stay here, stay safe," he told her. "Don't accept any visitors, kill any muggle agents."

"And wizards?"

"Run up the mountain and seek sanctuary with our acquaintances. Tell them that there are crazy wizards violating paragraph twelve."

Ilsa smiled affectionately. She unbuttoned her blouse and uncovered her neck.

"Please, you'll need all your strength," she offered.

"Thank you, that will save time," commended her Heinrich before he sank his fangs in her.

Ilsa went around the house chores to occupy her time after Heinrich left. As she was dusting shelves, she heard a strange sound. It was a heartbeat. That alone wasn't so strange but this one was very fast. That would suggest a bird but the sound indicated something bigger. It was downwind from the house so she didn't have its scent.

Any other day, Ilsa would go after the sound immediately. Given the situation, Heinrich's absence, and her weakened state, she opted for a more careful approach. She grabbed a poker from the fireplace and sought to get to a position from which she could smell the intruder.

She jumped out of a window and wanted to circle the source of sound but it was too late for that. The sound diverged to a side. It seemed that it wanted to get around the house. Ilsa suspected that the intruder was able to smell her.

There was a gust of wind and trees around started to groan. Ilsa lost the sound in all that noise. When it stopped, she heard only a sound of the door of the back entrance into the house's cellar slamming shut.

The vampire woman hesitated momentarily. The thing was inside the villa. Heinrich would want her to flee and seek help. The problem was, Ilsa didn't even know what she would be fleeing from.

She knew where the intruder was. All she had to do was get ahead of it. She re-entered the house with intention of waiting for the intruder by the stairs down to the cellar.

The smell hit her shortly after she entered. It was that old strange scent they had not been able to identify. The intruder was inside already. Maybe it had never entered the cellar at all.

She could also hear the heartbeat again. She didn't see anybody though.

As she looked around, her eyes fell on an old alarm clock. She had never seen it before. Before she could realize what its purpose was, the alarm started ringing.

Ilsa crouched and prepared for attack. Her eyes swept left and right, searching for the attacker. It was by a chance that she spotted a strange blur on the ceiling. Then she was pierced by something big and sharp from behind.

Ilsa let out a blood curdling shriek and gripped the tip of the alien's tail protruding from her stomach. Blood spilled from her mouth. A human would be dead at this point but Ilsa was a vampire. She reached behind herself with her right hand and pressed on the tip of the tail with her left hand. She managed to dislodge herself a moment before sharp claws swiped through the space where her head was.

Despite being a vampire, she found the visage which unmasked itself in front of her absolutely horrific. All the details which would instil fear in humans subconsciously, she was able to perceive consciously. She had no idea what the creature was but it was most certainly intelligent.

Running wasn't an option. She would be able to outrun an average human but the creature would be at her the moment she would turn to flee. Hence, she grabbed the poker again and hissed. The monstrosity snarled and swiped at her with her tail. Ilsa blocked the attack with the poker, using both her hands. That left her open to the creature's claws. She felt sharp pain in her side, just bellow an armpit.

The fight was over. She was hit by a black fist in her face and the poker slipped from her hands. The creature grabbed her by her leg and swung her around. It didn't let her go before it severed the leg. Ilsa barely registered the pain from her arm being severed as well.

The situation didn't look good. She was loosing whatever blood she had left quickly. That meant an inevitable death, unless Heinrich saved her.

She awaited the final blow but it didn't come. The heartbeat slowed to a human rate. She turned her head with a lot of difficulty. Her sight was dimming but she was still able to see that the monster was gone and there was a young teen instead. It was actually a boy by age but she didn't know that. His hands were covered by her blood.

"My, my. That worked better than I ever dreamed," said the boy.

Ilsa didn't say anything. Harry went to the bedroom and when he returned, he held up a pair of SS insignias. He discovered their identities when he was snooping there before.

"It was a long-shot to hope that they would come here," continued Harry. "I didn't really need it. I'm just planting diversion wherever I see a good soil but boy, this seed budded up nicely. Oh, shoot. I've started monologuing."

Harry grabbed the woman by her shoulders and sat her up.

"What were you talking about with them?" he boomed.

She didn't answer.

"Are the wizards going where the letter says? Is your mate following them?"

"Go to hell!" rasped Ilsa with much difficulty.

Harry stroked his chin.

"I'm no expert on vampires but you seemed weak when we fought," he mused. He pulled at her collar and uncovered tiny scars left there by Heinrich. "I see, you gave all your strength to him." He caressed the scars with his finger.

"Don't touch me!" wheezed Ilsa.

"What does your mate intend? Is he..." Harry fell silent suddenly. "You know what, it doesn't matter."

He punched her in her face one last time and went over to the fireplace. He didn't dare to try to eat a vampire's brain but he didn't need to. He grabbed some kindling and logs and started making a fire next to a sofa Ilsa was lying by. She didn't give him any satisfaction by trying to escape.

"You know, I've got no quarrel with you," he said as he worked. "On the other hand, I can assure you that I will not loose any sleep over this."

He fanned the fire up and added more logs and Ilsa's severed limbs. They burned nicely. Ilsa lost consciousness from the blood loss. Harry added curtains and furniture.

He stepped away from the bonfire and pulled a garlic from his pocket. He peeled it and crushed it. He rubbed his shoes and hands with the paste. Finally, he took Michael's sock and as he retreated from the house, he rubbed the way behind him with the sock. He didn't stop doing that until he reached a stream.

There's no telling what would Heinrich find at his destination and what kind of welcome would he receive. Maybe the vampires over there would laugh at him and he would realize that both he and Moody were being played. Maybe they would be angered by his intrusion into their sanctuary. Maybe they would be insulted by his belief that they would serve Grindelwald still.

As it was, he was stopped by a bad feeling. Maybe it was some kind of a vampiric link to his mate, maybe he had a bad feeling ever since he had left the villa. Regardless, he scaled a ridge and climbed up a tall tree. He saw a column of smoke rising from the position where the villa was. It seemed thin from the distance but he immediately deduced that the entire villa was burning. He raced back at top speed.

When he returned, there was a chain of villagers passing up pails of water. A gamekeeper with a double barrel combination gun on his back stood nearby. In the absence of police, he was trying to look for anything unusual. He wasn't doing a good job.

Even the humans were able to smell a strange acrid stench in the air. Heinrich recognized it as a scent of a burned vampire. He was also quite sure that it was Ilsa.

Not wanting to believe, he braved the burning house. The villagers were doing their best to quench the fires but it was still foolish. A few people spotted him but they didn't recognize him.

Heinrich couldn't reach the epicentre of the fire so he ran in circles around it, trying to catch a glimpse between the flames. Finally, he spotted some charred bones. He let out an inhuman shriek, "Neeeeeeein!"

The villagers stopped passing the pails. Some of them knew the rumours about the inhabitants of the villa. The gamekeeper closed his gun and readied himself.

Heinrich sneaked behind the gamekeeper and dragged him away into shadows. He didn't have a finger on either trigger so the gun didn't discharge. Even though he wasn't thirsty, he sucked the gamekeeper dry.

Heinrich needed to get the people away from there so he could investigate. He checked the gamekeeper's pockets for additional ammo and walked back to the burning villa. He turned the gun up and discharged the rifle barrel. He intended to keep the shotgun barrel for a case the people wouldn't want to leave. There was no need - they fled like chicken.

Once the place was clear, the vampire circled around the area contaminated by the scents of the villagers, trying to find any hints which would point at the perpetrator or perpetrators. He had his theory already but he wanted to be sure.

It didn't take long to discover Michael's trail. It was mixed with garlic but Heinrich recognized it nonetheless. He followed it to the stream. It seemed like he didn't wish to apparate near the crime site, most probably because of the paragraph twelve. Heinrich didn't find the scents of the other two so he wasn't sure whether they had no part in the murder or whether they were simply better at concealing their scents. Considering that Michael seemed the dumbest of the trio, the latter seemed more probable. It didn't matter, Heinrich was going after them all.

There was one more thing he needed for his confrontation. The only problem was that it was in the cellar of the villa. He couldn't get there through the house but perhaps he could gain access through the back entrance. True enough, the back entrance was untouched by the flames but there was smoke pouring from it. Thanks to it, he didn't even notice Harry's scent on the door.

Heinrich grabbed a half full bucket of water and entered the cellar. The fires started to spread into it but the part he wanted to reach was still accessible. Moving quickly, he reached his destination and punched a wall at a certain spot. He pulled out a hidden metal box.

Outside, he unsealed and opened the box. There was his old Luger wrapped in an oily rag. He disassembled the handgun and a magazine and cleaned any excess oil away with a piece of cloth torn from the gamekeeper's shirt. He reassembled the weapon and checked its operation. It seemed fine, even all the springs still worked. Finally, he tore open a sealed plastic bag containing a small box of ammo. It wasn't from WW2, he had obtained it in western Europe about a decade earlier.

Having all he needed, Heinrich set out after Moody and his companions.

* * *

Moody and his companions came to a wide chasm. Moody took out a binocular and scanned the opposite side.

"I'll go first," he stated and passed the binocular to Heather.

He apparated to the opposite side, balancing on the uneven surface. Luckily, he didn't land on any stones. He waved at his companions, pointed at a place next to him, and kicked some of the stones away. Heather waited till he was done and then she passed the binocular and followed Moody.

Michael went last. Unlike his companions, he didn't land well. He lost his footing and fell. He screamed in pain.

"Perfect," complained Heather under her breath. It looked like a twisted ankle.

"Don't move, let me look at it," commanded Moody and squatted to examine the ankle.

When he drew his wand, Michael wanted to ask whether Moody knew what he was doing but only a hiss came out doe to his pain. Moody cast a spell and the ankle was fixed.

"Can you walk?" asked Heather.

Michael tried the put his weight tentatively on the ankle and hissed again.

"No matter, it will be evening soon," conceded Moody. "Let's go over there and break camp."

Once they were done, Moody and Heather let Michael to rest while they took a look around. They found nothing but rocks, mountain pines, and various mountain herbs.

Evening came and the companions set up alarm wards. They didn't make a fire and used a little cooking stove to prepare their supper. After the meal, Heather took an apple from a preservation container, duplicated it thrice, and replaced it.

"I want both of you to be on your watch tonight," said Moody when night fell. "Not all vampires in these mountains are as friendly and non-lethal as those two back down."

Michael had first watch. Unbeknownst to him, he was being observed by a predator who wished to kill him.

Michael woke Heather up when his watch ended. That was when Heinrich decided to make his move. He waited for Michael to fall asleep and then he attacked.

The silence of the night was broken by a loud gunshot and its echoes. Moody was instantly awake but it took Michael somewhat longer to get up. He heard another shot and a sound of a kinetic shield doing its job.

When he did get out of a tent, he saw Heather's dead body lying on the ground. There was a hole in her head. Moody was nearby, casting a detection spell. A third shot sounded over the rocks, this time from a different direction. Michael felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder and dropped his wand.

"Idiot," snarled Moody and shot a ball of light into the sky. The area around was illuminated. Another bullet splattered on his shield and he apparated to a spot he had visited during his walk earlier. It was a risky move but he managed to land without twisting his ankle or any other injury.

The detection spell he had cast earlier was still active so he knew that he was "behind" the attacker and that the attacker was a vampire. There was some stunted shrubbery around. Moody waved his wand to his left and his right and the shrubbery lit up like paper. He apparated so the vampire was between him and the fire.

In the meantime, Michael managed to find his wand. He took it in his left hand and wanted to stop his bleeding when he was attacked from behind. He gasped as sharp claws pierced his back and came out of his chest. He looked down. The claws were disillusioned but he could see them well because they were covered by his own blood. It was the last thing he saw before he died.

Neither Moody nor Heinrich noticed Michael's demise. Heinrich fired another round from the rifled barrel and it splattered on Moody's shield. The detections spell expired so Moody threw a conjured ball of fire in the general direction from which the shot came. It was obvious to Heinrich that he wasn't getting anywhere with his sniping tactic. He inserted one last round in the rifled barrel and charged the wizard. He fired from the rifled barrel as he ran. Moody strengthened his shield and waited. Just before Heinrich discharged the shotgun barrel, Moody cast a tracking spell on Heinrich. He wasn't aware that Heinrich had no intention of running. Moody's shield lit up as it was pelted by the little pellets.

Heinrich dropped the rifle and drew his pistol. Moody had no choice but to focus on his shield which had been weakened by the shotgun blast. Heinrich opened fire and dived to Moody's blind side. He leapt in the air, right above the wizard. He dropped at the magical shield and it collapsed under his weight.

Moody had barely enough time to curse in his mind. The situation was precarious but he had managed to get out of worse troubles. He attempted to evade but Heinrich's foot still hit him. While Heinrich landed on his feet gracefully like cat, Moody went sprawling on the rocky ground.

"Die!" shrieked Heinrich and lunged. He had no intention of questioning Moody, that's what was Michael for. At the same time, Moody cast an incendiary spell. It hit Heinrich full on and he lit up like torch. Unfortunately for Moody, his own leg caught on fire as well. There was no time to douse it, he had to get out of Heinrich's way first.

"Dammit, dammit," he cursed as he rolled away. Heinrich missed him so closely that the flames on him singed Moody's hair. Moody cast a water conjuring spell, hoping that the casting wouldn't fail due to the pain. Quite the opposite happened. A torrent of water swept Moody and washed him several meters downhill. At least his pants were no longer on fire.

"Michael!" he cried. No response.

Heinrich was no longer moving. His body was lying motionlessly and burned steadily.

Moody examined his leg. He needed to treat it. He started by taking his boot off and severing the pant leg.

He didn't get any further. Harry's tail pierced his forearm. Moody yelled in pain and dropped his wand. The monster grabbed his other arm and pushed him face-down on the rock, stepping on his back. He picked the fallen wand with his free hand.

Wasting no time, Harry penetrated Moody's skull by his inner jaw and started to feast. He was very meticulous, consuming every memory, every piece of knowledge. The Auror was a true goldmine.

* * *

Gellert Grindelwald was awakened by a sound of his cell door opening. He opened his eyes and saw his old friend Dumbledore sitting down. He had a hard, unreadable expression on his face. Something wasn't right.

"Albus," he greeted him.

Dumbledore didn't answer. There seemed to be a fire raging under his stone cold surface.

"I have a feeling that this isn't a social visit," observed Grindelwald.

"Would you care to guess where I've been for last two weeks?" spoke Dumbledore.

Grindelwald narrowed his eyes and responded, "I have no idea."

Dumbledore measured his former friend with his eyes for a while.

"Would it surprise you to hear that I was in Transylvania?" he elaborated.

"Transylvania?" repeated Grindelwald. "What could you possibly..."

An answer dawned on him but he couldn't believe that Dumbledore's visit could be possibly about that.

"I see you are starting to remember," remarked Dumbledore.

"What happened?"

Dumbledore leaned forward and growled, "Before I went there to investigate the matter myself, I've lost four people in there. One of them was a dear friend of mine."

Grindelwald didn't comment and waited for Dumbledore to continue.

"And what did I find when I ventured there myself?"

"Nothing," uttered Grindelwald.

Dumbledore produced a small vial, uncorked it, and passed it to Grindelwald.

"Drink it," he ordered, uncovering his Elder wand briefly.

Grindelwald didn't even think about resisting and drank the Veritaserum.

"Have you or have you not ever created a Horcrux for yourself?" boomed Dumbledore.

"No. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Have you or have you not ever done any other rituals which concerned escaping death?"

"No."

"Then why my associates believed that there was one to be found in there?!"

"You tell me. What put such such an idea into your head? My old journal perhaps?"

"Indeed."

Grindelwald started to chuckle and explained, "That was a joke. I expected it to fall into your hands in the case you won our battle. There's something I don't understand though. You had it for all those years. Why have you pursued it now?"

"There's one wraith of a dark lord out there already. No need for another. You've said that what you wrote in the journal was a joke planted for me. But it went further than that. You've also created a false lead. A trap."

Dumbledore was asking all the wrong questions. Grindelwald was about to deny his statement when he realized that the serum allowed him to say something else as well.

"You and your people saw what you wanted to see. Their blood is on your hands, not mine."

"It's not just about their untimely demises. I also have a diplomatic incident on my hands. With the Romanian Ministry of Magic and with vampires living in the area. They claim that my people attacked two of their kind. Alas, when I searched remains of their abode, I discovered the true identity of those two vampires. Your followers, I presume."

"You are an idiot," sneered Grindelwald. The fact that he said that under the influence of the Veritaserum added to the insult.

Suddenly, he felt sharp pain in his abdomen.

"What's that?" he gasped. "Was the serum fully matured?"

"Now that you mention it, I neglected to ask my potions master about that."

Grindelwald slumped to the floor, as cramps gripped his guts.

"You," he gasped. "You are murdering me. You, the protector of light. You are now in the place where I was decades ago."

Dumbledore kept watching until Grindelwald died. He drew his wand but nothing happened - there was no change. He checked whether the prisoner was truly dead and then he left the cell to report the interrogation "accident".

When Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, he noted that Fawkes was absent. That wasn't anything strange, he rarely saw him in past few years. However, as months passed and Fawkes didn't return, Dumbledore had to face the fact that his familiar had abandoned him. It would be a lie to say that he was surprised.


	6. Return

Return

Rita heard their doorbell ring. She nodded at Teresa who looked through a spy hole. What she saw excited her and without saying anything to Rita, she threw the door open.

"Harry!" she rejoiced and pulled him into a hug as the boy entered their flat. "You've grown so much."

Even though Harry wasn't even eleven years old yet, he was almost as tall as Teresa and Rita.

"Not so fast," commanded Rita, though she was smiling. "Security first."

They took turns asking each other questions to confirm their identities. Rita pondered over Harry's fast growth. She concluded that it was a side effect of him being an animagus. She had never heard about wizards spending too much time in their animal form but if that was what Harry was doing than it was probable that he was maturing as quickly as the animal.

Harry walked over to a window. They had a nice sight on New York.

"Nice flat," he commented.

"It's just temporary," replied Rita. "We needed a place to stay while we prepare our move to Britain."

"And how was Canada?"

"Very relaxing," answered Teresa.

"Enough chit chat," stated Rita. "We don't have much time and a lot of work to do. You are supposed to go to Hogwarts next school year. People are starting to talk about it in Britain already."

She threw a Daily Prophet issue to him. There was an article with a rehash of everything that was known about him.

"I assume that you want me to finish my story?" asked Harry.

"Well, it's a high time," retorted Rita icily. "You should have sought us in Canada."

"Maybe. Alas, there was a certain stipulation."

"Yes, she can shoot," responded Teresa. "I've seen it. I haven't used a stopwatch but I'm sure you would be satisfied. I myself wasn't idle either, of course."

"Impressive. And can you shoot and cast spells at the same time, Rita?"

"My, my. Aren't you curious. Maybe I'll tell you all about it one day."

Harry ate some breakfast and they sat down.

"I hope you realize that you can't cite me as your source," advised Harry. "The Ministry of Magic would go after you to question you about my whereabouts."

When he said that, a memory gnawed at the back of his mind. Lovegood. The man had seen him. Harry hoped that Lovegood wasn't going to expose the fact that Rita heard the entire story from him.

"I'm no fool," assured him Rita. "Of course I can't let anyone suspect that I was ever in contact with you. Much of what you've told me so far was published by Lovegood and me already. This time around, I'll be presenting it as a possible theory narrated from your viewpoint. Also, I'm sure you can remember some other people who could tell me some of these things if I knew to ask them. Should anybody check those sources, they will find out that it's the truth. And, of course, I can always claim that Mundungus Fletcher told me some of it."

"This sounds like you are going to release it as a book."

"Yes, that's most convenient. No need to deal with newspapers that way."

"You'll still need a publisher. And book stores will need to sell your book."

"That won't be a problem. The retailers won't resist and I've found a publisher already. I had to agree to quite low royalties but that doesn't matter."

"Very well, let's get started," declared Harry and clasped his hands.

He continued his story from where he had left off two years before. Of course, he didn't say anything about seeing the monster in TV.

"When I became four or five, I started to become quite curious about... well, everything," he said instead. "Honing my intelligence seemed like the only way to survive. I started attending primary school and I started to read a lot. Because I was attending the school, the Dursleys didn't have such a control over me any more though my cousin Dudley did his best to stand in for his parents when we were at school."

Harry narrated about his life before the destruction of Privet Drive number 4. He told her details about various incidents with Dudley at school and how he had always taken the blame for it. The problem with his story was the necessity to avoid talking about his main motivation - the monster and his fascination with it. Harry told Rita that he became interested in astronautics instead. Rita suspected that there was something that Harry wasn't telling her but she didn't call him out on it.

They covered all important points by next day evening but Harry didn't continue his story past the time when he had submitted that fateful essay yet. Rita needed some time to organize her notes and start plotting out a new chapter of her book.

Teresa and Harry went out so they wouldn't disturb Rita. Their walk took them to a cinema. Teresa absently scanned a program posted by the entrance.

"Look, they are screening _Aliens_ tonight," she told Harry.

"What?" asked Harry who was surprised a little by Teresa's sudden reference to his animal form.

"Yeah. It was released on VHS years ago but maybe they are screening it again because Alien 3 is coming out next year. Have you seen it?"

"No, I've only seen parts of the first film."

"Well, do you want to go?"

They had nothing better to do so Harry nodded. Still, it was quite a coincidence. In all those years since his escape from Privet Drive, Harry had never been confronted with the fictional origin of his animal form. He wondered whether Rita had found out what his form was and put Teresa up to it.

They entered and bought tickets. The guy selling them was suspicious about Harry's age and was about to ask him for his ID. Harry flicked his (Moody's) wand under his coat inconspicuously and the ticket guy forgot all about it. Harry didn't like resorting to magic but this was a special occasion.

Watching the film was a strange experience for Harry. He learned a lot of new facts about the monster. Alas, that didn't mean he learned something new about himself. After all, he had accepted long before his first shift that his monster was quite different from the species introduced in the first film. He leaned back and tried to enjoy himself, secretly rooting for the monsters.

As he observed his companion, he became convinced that if Rita suspected anything, Teresa wasn't privy to it. At some points, she gripped his arm from the tension.

"Well?" she asked when they were leaving the cinema.

Harry knew that he had to say something casual, at least to avoid drawing attention to the topic.

"Quite good, actually," he replied. "But with real violence in my life, I don't have any need to watch fictional one as well."

"True enough, true enough."

When they returned to the flat, Rita was still working.

"Wrap it up, we can continue tomorrow," told her Harry.

Rita rubbed her eyes and nodded. She and Teresa went to sleep in their rooms while Harry made his bed on a sofa.

As he was falling asleep, he was thinking about the film he had just seen. There was no beating around the bush - his animagus form was a fictional creature. That was something he had realized from the very beginning but it was delivered home to him that evening more strongly that ever before.

And yet, was he a truly just an animagus? From what he knew about normal animagi, he was singular in more ways than one (having a fictional form). It felt to him like the actual form wasn't important - what mattered was the "content" in his psyche which had manifested in such a way. All that hatred, anger, and darkness. Harry was sure that there had been something inside him long before he glimpsed the creature in the Dursley's television. This something was just as responsible for spawning the creature as his own magic and imagination. Alas, it was so long ago that he couldn't even remember when and how he had acquired this something. The bottom line was, he had no reason to feel silly for having such an animagus form. After all, it was an extremely useful form.

Rita asked Harry more questions next day about things which needed better coverage in her opinion. Teresa also asked a question from time to time. Being a non-magical adult, she provided some unique insight into the story.

"Have you ever attempted to talk about your situation with the authorities?" she asked once.

"No, actually not," answered Harry. "It was a long time ago but I don't think I've ever considered this option. For one, I didn't want to go to an orphanage. I didn't know what it was back then but I was starting to feel my magic. I figured out that I had better chance of learning how to access it whilst locked up in my cupboard rather than in a dormitory full of other boys."

Rita was working hard to prepare the second segment of Harry's story (the first being his early years which he had described in Florida already). Sometimes, Harry and Teresa had to pull her away from work so she could clear her head.

Harry also insisted on a few short sparring sessions to gauge Rita's (and Teresa's) progress. They didn't have time to seek a place where they could cast spells or fire a gun so they just used the revolver loaded with snap caps and spatulas instead of wands.

It was May when Rita was finished and Teresa and Harry started to read the new addition to her book. There was only one last piece of the story to tackle: the day when Harry killed his muggle relatives.

"Rita, I don't think you should write the truth about what happened in the end," confessed Harry. "We need to think about the public reception first and foremost."

"Why shouldn't we write the truth?" demanded Rita. "In the moment of highest need, your magic flared up and saved your life! What could be possibly more epic? People are going to love that."

Truth to be told however, she had never heard the full story herself.

"They are more likely to see me as a dangerous freak. If my magic flared once, it can flare again. Using my magic to deflect an attack, yes - that's OK. Killing somebody with my magic? That's a big no no. The same goes for setting the house on fire to cover my tracks."

"So what do you propose?"

"I've got quite an interesting idea. I'll start narrating from the morning of that day. When I get to the end, I'll start veering of course. Whenever you feel like it sounds weird or spot a logical hole, let me know. When we are done, you'll publish it exactly like that."

Rita wasn't pleased with such an arrangement. Her style was to discover the truth and twist it only afterwards. By receiving the twisted, final version, she was loosing control. Alas, there was nothing to be done about it. She suspected that Harry didn't want even her to know the truth. She deduced that it could possibly mean that whatever had happened back then was still considered by Harry as a major tactical advantage.

"Very well, have it your way," she agreed.

They made some tea for themselves and Harry started.

"As I've said before, astronautics was one of my interests back then," he narrated. "And it wasn't just mere astronautics, I was also considering problems connected to combat in zero gravity."

"Your essay."

"Indeed. I wrote it mainly for fun but it kicked of an unexpected spiral of events."

They dissected the conversation between Petunia and the headmaster on which Harry had eavesdropped. Rita noted that she (Petunia) had not been dim at all and Harry agreed.

"After I ran, I wandered around the town for a while," continued Harry his story. "I couldn't risk going back to Privet Drive. In the end, I went to Mrs. Figg's house."

Rita knew all of that already. She wondered if Harry was going to describe that incident accurately.

"I told her what had happened at school. She didn't send me away and gave me tea instead. I spilled everything else to her. She believed me and I couldn't believe my luck. In retrospective, her behaviour wasn't so surprising. She told me that she was going to call somebody who could help me. At first, I feared that she was going to call my uncle or police but I learned later that she actually contacted Mundungus. Unfortunately, Vernon Dursley arrived first, obviously looking for me. Once again, I thought that Mrs. Figg called him. However, she told me to stay out of sight and went to open the door. I guess she planned to tell him that I wasn't there but Vernon, being himself, barrelled into the house before he even finished asking the question. I heard Mrs. Figg yelling at him and Vernon realized that I was probably there. He continued to the living room where I was. He was livid and grabbed me. Mrs. Figg was right behind him and tried to pull him away from me. He struck her down. That was when Mrs. Figg's cats attacked Vernon. It was unbelievable."

"Kneazles, not cats," corrected him Rita. "And it's actually quite believable."

"Yes, Mundungus mentioned it later. They would probably chase a normal person away but Vernon was a large, lardy person. He punched and kicked around until the kneazles were scattered. That was when Mrs. Figg attacked him with a kitchen knife. He bashed her over her head with something. I think a statuette. I tried to escape but he caught me and punched my lights out."

Rita was listening to the story with a professional calmness. She didn't assume that Harry was lying nor did she believe him implicitly. She looked at Teresa who seemed to be engrossed by the sordid story. That counted for something.

"When I woke up, I was back in number 4 and it was dark," told them Harry.

"Have you ever been told what happened while you were out?" asked Rita.

"Mundungus told me that Vernon killed Mrs. Figg."

"Yes. It was arranged like an accident. Not very convincingly."

"He didn't get to share the details. I didn't spend that much time with him. Now, back to the story. As I said, I woke up back in number 4. Hm, let me think..."

Harry folded his hands under his chin and tried to imagine the events he was about to describe. Rita wondered whether this pause signified the point where Harry was starting to make things up.

"I was in my cupboard," started Harry slowly and Rita raised a finger. "That means I couldn't have seen that it was night already." Rita nodded. "I heard Petunia and Vernon talking in the kitchen. Dudley was most probably in his room. Now, I needed to get out of that cupboard and I had no means of opening the door from inside."

"So you used magic?" asked Rita when Harry trailed off.

"Well, I guess that was the only option. I opened it without them noticing anything and..."

"And then sneaked quietly out into the night?" snipped Rita sarcastically.

"Why not?" proposed Teresa. "He used his magic to escape and somebody else did the killing."

"Who?"

"Maybe Dumbledore's wards fell when Harry left and Death Eaters attacked. Maybe Dumbledore himself killed off any witnesses and destroyed the evidence."

"No, wait," disagreed Harry. "That's too much away from the truth. The public should know that it was me who killed the Dursleys and that I had to do it. However, what Teresa said has a certain allure. What if the only piece of magic I performed that night was getting out of the cupboard? Also, make sure to highlight that it was the first manifestation of magic that I had in years and the very first semi-conscious act of magic in my life that I know of."

"As you wish," agreed Rita. "How did the Dursleys learned that you were escaping?"

"OK, I'm in the cupboard, scared out of my mind. My only hope is this vague feeling of magic inside me. I try to concentrate on the bolt on the outer side of the door. All I have to do is to shift it."

"Move something you can't even see with accidental magic? Highly unlikely."

"And that's why nothing happened. So, I'm getting even more scared and I focus much harder, on the door this time. This time, I overdo it and the door are bashed open with much noise. Also, I'm dazed by the exertion for a moment so I can't use the element of surprise to escape. How does it sound?"

Both Rita and Teresa nodded. Rita thought that the story needed polishing but that was irrelevant at the moment. Harry had another pause as he contemplated his "statement".

"Vernon comes at me with an axe," resumed Harry his story after the pause. "I presume he was planning to use that very same axe to execute me anyway. He's big and clumsy and he needs both his hands to hold the axe so I manage to evade him."

"And the others?" asked Rita. "What are the others doing?"

"Well, Dudley is still in his room, playing on his computer or watching TV. Petunia doesn't join in actively, most probably out of fear of getting hit by the axe, but she blocks the access to the front door which is probably locked anyway."

"Wait a minute, please," interrupted Teresa. "Can we draw this down? It seems I'm the only one here who doesn't know the layout of the house."

"As a matter of fact, my own knowledge in this regard is sketchy at best," admitted Rita.

"And it was a long time ago for me, even though I grew up there," confessed Harry.

"Well, let's get to it," proposed Rita. "We'll put it together somehow."

Teresa fetched a pencil and a sheet of squared paper. Harry began with the hallway with stairs and his cupboard. Kitchen followed and it was immediately clear that Petunia couldn't had been between Harry and the front door.

"OK, let's say that I get to the front door and they are locked," corrected Harry himself. "Then Vernon attacks me with the axe and misses me narrowly. This gives me an opportunity to get around him. My only chance is to get to the kitchen where Petunia awaits."

"Harry," interrupted him Teresa. "I don't think it would be believable for you to remember this in such a detail."

"Well, I'm going to present it as a dramatization of a possible version of the events," argued Rita.

"You know, I've been thinking," mused Harry. "Your idea of admitting Mundungus as one of your sources has merit. It's not like anybody can ask him whether it's true. As a matter of fact, you could end your book with your own story. Imagine it, readers are going to be flabbergasted. They will read the story with a presumption that there's no way how to prove or disprove your theory and then you put in a last bit about me telling pieces of this story to Dung who then told you. And when we are at it, we can add some additional dirt about Dumbledore."

"Hm, that sounds good," contemplated Rita. "We would have to think about this."

They continued in similar manner for a few more hours. According to the story, it had been Vernon who had accidentally ruptured the gas supply. Dudley had burned to death in his room.

"Let me finish the story," requested Rita in the end. "As Harry Potter scrambled through the back garden away from the fire and tried to tune out his cousin's shrieks..."

"Now wait a minute! Why would I want to tune anything out?"

"Trust me, this fits perfectly with your intentions. Now, where was I. Oh yes. Mundungus Fletcher arrived..."

Rita described the meeting between shell-shocked Harry and the scoundrel whose scoundrely heart softened with pity. Teresa warned her that the style of the entire narration had to be consistent throughout the entire book.

"And so the two of them vanished," concluded Rita. "Fletcher sent Harry Potter to safety, away from Death Eaters, away Dumbledore and his machinations. Where is Harry now? No one knows and with Fletcher dead, no one will ever know. Until the moment when Harry grows into a man and decides to visit the magical England on his own terms, if ever."

"You sure did a lot of growing up, Harry," remarked Teresa.

Harry just rolled his eyes. Rita made no comment.

They went over the whole story again. Their goal was to make it sound as naturally as possible.

They had a light supper. Rita sent them out afterwards. She wanted to start working while it was still fresh in her head.

"Shouldn't you take a break?" asked Teresa. "Come with us."

"No, thanks. I'm a journalist and this is my bread and butter. But you two take a break - you'll be doing a lot of reading tomorrow."

Harry and Teresa obeyed her.

As they walked in a park, Teresa asked, "So, you've never seen the first Alien movie whole?"

"That's right."

"Would you like to? The sequel had to be a little bit confusing for you."

"Why not? But I doubt that we will find a cinema where they screen it."

"Hm. And we don't have a VHS player in our flat."

"And we wouldn't want to disturb Rita anyway," added Harry. Truth to be told, he never wanted Rita to learn that those films even existed.

"I think there are places where you can rent a VHS and play it there on their own TV," proposed Teresa.

"Sounds good."

They found such an establishment and there was even a vacancy that evening. They rented the tape and played it. This time around, Harry didn't learn any useful new information.

"Do you think they have a hive psychology?" asked Harry on their way back.

"I don't know. It seemed like they are somehow connected in the sequel. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that in the first film, the creature is quite smart and careful - because there's only one. In the sequel, they sacrifice themselves in droves."

"I see - there's a lot of them so they feel no need to play it safe?"

"Exactly. Though I have to admit, the humans are armed better in the sequel."

Harry realized too late that maybe he shouldn't had talked with Teresa about it. There was a slim chance that she was going to mention it to Rita.

The end of the school year was getting ever nearer. Rita and her friends finished editing the book. It was time to return to England so they could get on with their plans.

The question was, should all of them go to Britain? Even if Rita never made any public appearances, she was still going to be in spotlight. People were bound to come looking for her, Dumbledore and the Ministry especially. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea for them to be together. Rita proposed for Harry and Teresa to stay in USA.

"Let's compromise," counter-proposed Harry. "All of us shall go. Separately. Teresa and I will hide in the non-magical world. That way, we won't be near you but we won't be far either. And to be safe, you won't know where we are."

The proposal was accepted. The only thing that Rita didn't like about it was the fact that it ruined her plan to make Harry a little birthday party. Well, Teresa was going to have to celebrate it with Harry alone.

Harry told Rita to send him an encrypted e-mail in a case of an emergency. He had to teach her how to actually send one from an internet café.

Later on, Teresa and Harry talked about it in private.

"I almost thought that you were going to split again," commented Teresa.

"The thought crossed my mind," admitted Harry. "But I didn't think you two would accept it well. Besides, you would probably want to join Rita in such a case and that wouldn't be safe for you. Also, I've got a plan for how to use our time in the normal world. That is, if you'd like to join in."

"What do you've got in mind?"

"I want to study some computer science."

"Computers? Why?" asked Teresa in surprise. Then she started to think about it and didn't find the idea so strange after all.

"I was taught something about computers and network security years ago," answered Harry. "I'm getting behind the times though so I need a refresher."

"How do you plan to enrol?"

"Well, many universities don't bar access to lectures to non-students. Especially if the attendance is poor. I'll just join in quietly. Then again, getting to labs would be great as well."

"Aren't you afraid that you will, you know, stand out? Due to your age, I mean."

"Well, I think it won't be a problem to pass as someone much older."

That was true. It was the first time Harry admitted that he was physically older than eleven. Teresa considered asking him about it but she opted not to in the end.

They made the arrangements for their stay in Britain while Rita made hers.

The time to leave New York arrived. Rita was going to take a portkey to France and travel to London from there. Unbeknownst to her, Harry and Teresa were going to take a plane that very same day.

Teresa and Rita hugged as they said their farewells. Rita had to admit that even though Teresa was a muggle, she had gotten used to her company.

"You two take care of each other," told Rita to Harry as she hugged him.

"Don't worry about us," told her Harry. "Worry about yourself. Carry that revolver always when you are in the magical world."

Both of them knew that if Rita ever shot a wizard with that revolver, she would never be able to show her face in the magical Britain again. That is, unless there were extraordinary circumstances.

Harry and Rita finished packing and returned the keys to the flat to their landlord. They took a taxi to Kennedy's airport.

* * *

Rita watched an editor leafing through her book. He seemed to be entertained. That wasn't ideal but it wasn't a catastrophe.

"Well written, well written. Almost as if you were there yourself," commended her the editor. "I going to read it properly right away but I can tell you already, you did it! It's highly entertaining and people are going to love it!"

Rita cringed. Yes, presenting the text as a dramatized theory was meant to protect her and Harry. At the same time, it was serious work and she didn't like it being painted as "entertainment".

"Excuse me, this is also the biggest scoop since the end of the war," she reminded him.

The publisher laughed lightly and responded, "We are not Daily Prophet and you are no longer employed there. May I remind you that you have been gone for quite a while and that people who remember you at all remember you only as writer of conspiracy theories for The Quibbler? By the way, Quibbler is still struggling to recover from your shots at Dumbledore."

"But every source can be verified!"

"Not every one of them. Dung is dead and no one is going to bother with the rest. Unless some adventurous journalist decides to risk his career and follow in your footsteps. Alas, then it will be him who will get the glory."

"Are seriously telling me that people are willing to let Dumbledore get away with killing the boy who lived?"

"Well, now that Harry is supposed to go to Hogwarts, many are going to re-evaluate. Not to mention that new people are joining the circle of those whose opinion matter every year. Then again, you claim that Harry Potter is alive. That's bound to soften many."

"Alive and safe because Dung betrayed Dumbledore."

"So. You. Say."

Rita let out an exasperated sigh. She hated Dumbledore for killing her career. She didn't know how, but he was going to pay.

"There's one other thing which might help you," continued the editor.

"Yes?"

"There's been rumours about Dumbledore for over a year now. He's changed, they say. Like there's a new dark side to him that wasn't there."

"Is he finally cracking from the pressure?"

"Maybe. If so, he may prove to be dangerous."

"To me, you mean? Because of the book?"

"Obviously."

"Then the same applies to you."

"Indeed."

The editor stood up and offered Rita his hand. That was her cue. She stood up as well and shook the hand. As she was leaving, the editor raised the manuscript and shook it like a spear. He was telling her that all that mattered at the moment was success of the book.

Rita returned to her little abode in Scotland. It was hidden and reasonably warded. It had been inhabited by an old witch until her recent death. Rita bought the cottage from the witch's family. The purchase was made through goblins so the family didn't even know who bought the dwelling.

Two days later, she met with the editor again and his boss. They signed a contract - no advance and five percent royalties. There were also some stipulations regarding possible second edition. Possibility of a second book was discussed but nothing was put in writing. The same went for Rita's public appearance to promote the book.

Rita ventured into the non-magical London and found one of these internet cafés Harry had told her about. There was no reason to contact him yet. If he was keeping an eye on what was happening, then he was going to hear about the book being released.

There was some more work to be done with the publishing but soon enough, the book went to a print. There was nothing left to do but wait for it to hit the stores.

All the stores had to do before the release was to post large signs reading "Harry Potter's Story" in big letters. It was a sensation, even bigger than the one when her articles had been published by Lovegood. The theme about Harry Potter being alive and somewhere out there resonated well with the audience. While Rita's previous message had been "Dumbledore killed Harry and deserves to be locked up" her new message was "Harry is alive and may need our help against Dumbledore's meddling".

Lovegood pitched in and wrote a rehash article in which he corroborated the story about how Rita had fled from Dumbledore and how he was the only one who believed her and supported her to his own detriment.

Rita waited it all out in solitude in her cottage.

One evening, she realized that it was Harry's birthday. She wondered how Harry and Teresa were spending it. Rita was sure that Harry didn't want to make a big deal about it and Teresa understood that surely. They were most probably in their flat and had got a small cake on their table which they had baked together earlier that day.

A thought struck Rita. What if Teresa decided to give Harry his "first" kiss on the occasion of his birthday? (Teresa didn't know about the creepy thing Rita had done right before they rescued her from the Russians.) After all, Harry didn't look like an eleven year old. The problem was that Harry wasn't probably going to react well to that (unless he decided to pretend) because of how much time he was spending in his animal form. Alas, that was one thing that they couldn't tell Teresa. Rita hoped that it wasn't going to drive a wedge between Harry and Teresa. The last thing Rita needed was a quarrel between the two of them.

Rita checked in with the publisher to get news about what was happening. They had received many letters from the public. Some supportive, some condemning, some inquisitive. Nothing out of ordinary on that front.

Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge (the new Minister of Magic) decided to ignore the book. That was, in extension, the official stance of the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore probably convinced Fudge that any reaction from their side would only give Rita more credibility.

Some important people approached them in a more private manner. Amelia Bones stopped by and told them that she wanted to take Rita's statement. That intrigued Rita. Amelia Bones was a witch of integrity but she couldn't risk being taken in. Rita could imagine Bones doing such a think if she believed that Rita knew anything about Harry's whereabouts.

The most surprising visitor was from Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall asked them to ask Rita to pass a message to Harry if he was truly alive and if it was possible to contact him. That was quite a leap of assumption. The message was that she (Minerva McGonagall) was willing to provide Harry with assistance in obtaining tutelage in magic, in case he wanted learn away from Dumbledore.

Rita didn't understand what was Minerva's game. She wasn't aware that she had been one of those who had left little Harry at the Dursleys' doorstep all those years ago and that she was simply feeling guilty. Instead, Rita suspected that Dumbledore had put her up to it.

The last thing that the publisher told her was a reiteration of the request to make a public appearance. Rita was about to deny but then a thought occurred to her. She replied that she was going to think about it.

Back in her cottage, Rita thought about her options. She had agreed with Harry to keep a low profile. On the other hand, getting an ally inside the Ministry of Magic and getting a broader support from the public wasn't to be sneezed at. The trick was to not to comply with only one of these request but to comply with both of them - at the same time.

Rita sent an e-mail to Harry as he had taught her, step by step. Download Harry's public encryption key, write the message, encrypt it, send. Harry had not taught her how to envelope the message in a digital signature to verify that it came from her so she wrote a pre-agreed pass-phrase at the end of the e-mail. It wasn't perfect but it sufficed in combination with the encryption.

In the e-mail, Rita reported everything that happened and explained what she was going to do. It was written in informative manner but somewhere in the back of her mind, Rita felt (or maybe even understood) that she was asking for a permission.

The answer came about an hour later. It wasn't encrypted (because Harry hadn't taught her how to decrypt it) but the text was so vague that there wasn't much need for it.

The content of Harry's response was hardly surprising. Teresa was against it. Harry was telling her to use her own discretion and to be careful in either case. There was no comment on McGonagall's offer. Once again, it didn't surprise Rita - she had a feeling that Harry had no wish to be a wizard.

Rita needed to talk to the publisher again. She couldn't go to the publishing out of fear of being intercepted by somebody from the Ministry of Magic there but they had expected such a situation and agreed to use the editor's house in such cases.

She approached the house in her bug form to scout whether the coast was clear. Ten minutes later, she was explaining her idea to the others. They didn't care much about humouring Amelia Bones but they were glad that Rita agreed to make a public appearance in Diagon Alley. Their only beef was with how soon was the event going to take place. Rita insisted on a date which was just a few days away. She reasoned that they needed to hold it right before the time when most magical families do their Hogwarts shopping. However, her true motivation (as the others suspected) was to have a meagre amount of the element of surprise.

Amelia Bones was contacted next day. Needless to say that she wasn't pleased. Alas, she had no other choice but to accept. There was a stipulation not to involve anybody connected to Dumbledore but she understood that. The problem was that people connected to Dumbledore tended not to advertise the fact.

The big day came. Rita was heavily glamoured when she entered Diagon Alley through Leaky Cauldron. She reached Flourish and Blotts without a problem.

She met with her associates from the publishing. They pointed out to her a wizard who was waiting in a corner and eyeing her already. When she removed her glamours, he approached her.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," he introduced himself and they shook hands.

"I assume that you've got questions for me?" she prompted him.

"My official assignment here is ensure order during this event. As you you know, the Ministry's stance on this..."

"Is absolute denial. Yes, I know."

"Precisely. In other words, I can't give you questions during the event."

"I won't talk to you in private. If you have any questions, ask them now."

Kingsley measured her for a moment before he asked, "Do you have any insight regarding Harry Potter's whereabouts?"

Rita laughed through her nose and shook her head. "You know I wouldn't be able to disclose this even if I knew. Alas, all I can tell you is that Dung claimed that Harry was safe and sound."

Too late did she realize that maybe she shouldn't have used Harry's first name. Kingsley noticed it and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He didn't say anything and Rita had no idea whether he was going to dwell on it.

"Please, take a seat and enjoy the event," she told him. "Maybe it will be more illuminating for you. If you'll have any more questions, I'll be available afterwards for as long as there are any people here."

"Very well," gave up Kingsley. "Though I would like to point out one thing to you. There are many former supporters of You-Know-Who out there. It's possible that one of them might try to kidnap you during the event to learn from you where Potter is."

Rita raised and eyebrow and asked, "Amelia Bones said that?"

"No," replied Kingsley. "That's... that's what I said. Just now."

Rita narrowed her eyes with suspicion. Something didn't sit right with her. She almost patted the place where her revolver was hidden but she stopped herself in time. Harry had taught her to never pat her concealed gun. At least she could feel it pressing into her body.

Mr. Lovegood arrived then and sought Rita immediately. They greeted each other jovially. Obviously, he didn't hold a grudge because of the trouble The Quibbler had years ago because of her articles. There was something else on his heart though.

"Rita, just before you disappeared," he opened. "That guy who came to ask me to arrange a meeting with you. Was it...?"

"Harry Potter?" interrupted him Rita in a "of course not" tone. "Obviously, it was Polyjuice Potion. Quite an eloquent proof of having access to real Harry Potter, don't you think?"

"So who was it? Dung?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I talked to him later in person so why wouldn't he reveal the fact in that case?"

"Well, maybe it was Potter after all."

"Dung wouldn't be stupid enough to send him out. Besides, he said that he himself had no further contact with him."

"And you believed him?"

"Hush, we can't talk about that here."

Lovegood bit his lip in consternation but he kept quiet.

"We'll talk later," he stated. "You owe me."

Rita spotted an old colleague from Daily Prophet next. They made an eye contact but he didn't approach her. It was possible that he considered her a "fallen journalist".

More and more people streamed in. Rita didn't mingle with them, the people from the publishing kept her in the back of the shop. On the other hand, they themselves mingled and promoted the book and themselves. Kingsley stood in a corner for the whole time and watched people as they entered.

At the precise time of the scheduled start of the event, the employees of Flourish and Blotts called the crowd to order. Rita took her place on a small podium and the "press conference began".

"Was all if it indeed real?" was the first question. It was given by an ordinary reader.

"You need to realize that most of what I know about that the events of the day when Harry Potter fled comes from Mundungus Fletcher and he himself heard the story from Harry Potter," answered Rita. "So we are talking about something third-hand here. However, everything in the story matches the results of my previous investigation. An investigation which can be repeated by anybody willing to put enough effort in it."

Her old colleague from Daily Prophet raised his hand. When she ignored him, he shouted that he had known Fletcher. One of the organizers gave him the floor.

"As I was saying, I had dealings with Mundungus Fletcher when he was still alive," repeated the reported. "Even if we trust your truthfulness completely, I wouldn't put it past a cunning scoundrel like Mundungus to be able to twist the truth in a way which would be perfectly consistent with whatever facts you have assembled."

There was silence. Rita rapped her fingers on a note stand before her as she contemplated her answer. The tricky part was not only to answer quickly but also to put on a face which told the audience that she wasn't thinking about the actual answer but about a good way to roast the asker.

"Only Harry Potter himself knows what happened during those two minutes during which the final confrontation took place. For all we know, maybe magic played a bigger role in his rescue than he wants us to know. Heck, maybe we are looking at this the wrong way - maybe he didn't save himself and it was all Mundungus!"

The reporter raised his hand and wanted to interject but Rita hushed him with a gesture and continued, "However, even if those two weren't entirely honest with us, their recount of the events still holds factual value because it's the message they decided to convey to us. If Harry Potter did use magic to defend himself and chose not to tell us then he wants to tell us that he doesn't wish to learn magic."

There was a murmur in the crowd. Harry Potter not wanting to be a wizard?!

Rita raised her hand and when the crowd quieted down a little, she avowed, "Furthermore, we need to focus on the facts here, which are incontrovertible. Harry Potter was being abused and he was, in fact, in grave danger. Arabella Figg, a squib, knew that and she reported it to Dumbledore. Did he help Harry? No, it was Mundungus Fletcher, a petty criminal, who helped Harry Potter, possibly saved his life."

She threw a sideways glance at Kingsley. He didn't show any reaction when she said Dumbledore's name. Either he was a good actor or Bones was right about him and he wasn't in Dumbledore's camp.

"Both Arabella Figg and Mundungus Fletcher paid the ultimate price for their bravery and decency," pressed on Rita. "We owe it to them to remember their sacrifice - just like we remember, or ought to remember, James and Lily Potter!"

The people from the publishing had to give it to Rita - she was not only a good writer, she was also a good speaker.

People asked more questions about Rita's theories about what followed after the conclusion fo the book, especially after Dung's death. She insisted that she didn't want to go into theories but people still implored her to tell them her thoughts about who was taking care of Harry with Dung dead and how had been Dung able to take care of Harry without Dumbledore noticing. Rita insinuated that when she had talked to Dung, he himself claimed that had no knowledge of Harry's exact whereabouts. She made sure to emphasize that there was no telling whether Dung had not said that just to protect Harry. Nonetheless, the crowd reached the obvious conclusion that there had been more people involved in hiding Harry Potter. Rita wondered whether she inadvertently betrayed one of Harry's secrets but then she realized that it was no longer actual anyway. As a matter of fact, Rita wondered whether Harry had been entirely honest with her on that topic.

The conference continued. There weren't any significant hurdles and by the end, Rita could say that kindling a theory about mysterious "them" helping Harry Potter had been her only mistake.

Alas, they weren't done yet. Not by a long-shot. The Q&A session was only first half of the event, the second was a book signing. Some visitors didn't own the book yet and had to buy a copy first. Most people just fished the book from their bags and formed a line.

The signing was relatively dull. Some people limited themselves to polite phrases (such as "Thank you") but many had a thing or two to say which they thought was too ingenious to say in front of the rest of the crowd. Rita had to refuse about ten invitations to a Sunday lunch. Every one of those invitations was extended to Harry Potter as well, as if Rita had not made it very clear earlier that she didn't know where Harry was.

Later on, when Rita was working out a cramp in her wrist, she caught Kingsley's eye. He smirked at her, understanding perfectly well how was she feeling. He himself was quite bored. Maybe that was the reason why both of them were caught completely by surprise.

It started when a man from the crowd attacked Kingsley, or rather attempted to tackle. Rita didn't see any wand but he was blocking Kingsley from drawing his own. Kingsley kneed the attacker in his groin but strangely enough, the attacker continued even though he was obviously in pain. That was when Kingsley noticed that the man was under the Imperius curse.

Out of reflex, Rita drew her wand the moment the scuffle began. Then she realized that there was a bunch of people around and between them and that Kingsley was more then able to take care of the attacker himself.

Alas, the bewitched attacker was only a diversion. Second attacker pushed his way as close as possible to Rita's table. When he couldn't get any further, he cast some kind of a concussion wave which knocked people around him away. Rita turned to the new danger just in time to be hit by a disarming spell. The man kept moving towards her. There was no time to wonder why he used only a disarmer.

Deprived of her wand, Rita went for her revolver. Even as her hand touched the wood of the grip, she realized that she wasn't going to be able to draw, prepare the gun to fire, and fire, before the man... before the man reached her? He wasn't casting any spells, that was for sure.

Suddenly, the man was hit by a .308 Winchester subsonic soft-point round in his pelvis. Rita didn't hear anything over the noise in the book store. That meant a suppressor possibly. The man screamed in pain and fell to the floor. Something seemed off about the way he reacted to the injury. Just like Kingsley before, Rita noticed that the attacker was bewitched.

"Make clear!" bellowed Kingsley, having subdued his attacker. Unfortunately, the place was packed and the people were in panic.

Rita noticed something in her attacker hand. It was an ordinary object. A Portkey, though Rita. There was no time to pick her wand up and cast a _Depulso_ nor did she dare to kick it away. If it was supposed to go off the moment he reached her, then she needed to hurry. Her hand was on the revolver already, so she drew it (while cocking simultaneously) and fired at the man's hand. She didn't miss but the Portkey was still touching him. People jumped aside and somebody yelped in pain. A bad habit reflex commanded her to add her left hand on the grip (the revolver was designed for one-handed shooting) but she resisted it, aimed carefully ( _"I aim with my eyes"_ ), and squeezed ( _"I shoot with my mind"_ ) moments before the Portkey activated. It disappeared along with a piece of meat stuck to it. The attacker passed out.

Rita picked her wand up and tried to stop the man's bleeding. Not very successfully, the injuries were quite extensive. Kingsley finally reached her, his wand drawn.

"Help him!" yelled Rita. "He was bewitched!"

"Mine too," uttered Kingsley and started the wand-work.

Rita approached a woman who cried before. A rebounded fragment of a projectile was stuck in her leg. Rita summoned it out and healed the wound. Then she noticed that the people were eyeing her in a weird way.

Kingsley asked one of the employees of Flourish and Blotts to Floo the Ministry of Magic. Rita absently thought that a muggle cop would use a radio. Kingsley returned to the first attacker to check on him. He bared his left forearm. Nothing. He went to the second. He was marked. Finally, the Auror approached Rita.

"What was that?" he asked. It sounded like an opening for an interrogation.

"Surely your knowledge of the non-magical world isn't that weak," retorted Rita.

Kingsley kept looking into her eyes for a few moments. Then he nodded and said, "Very well. Don't go anywhere, we'll need you to come with us. And get rid of that thing, you don't want to offend anybody any more than you already have."

"Oh I don't think so. On either count."

"There's no time for your stupid games!" snarled Kingsley. "This is serious."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" growled Rita and drew her revolver again.

Kingsley had a knee jerk reaction to draw his wand.

"You've seen what two bullets did to his hand," threatened Rita. "What do you think will four do to your balls?" Indeed, she was aiming rather low.

"Are you out of your mind?" roared Kingsley.

"Use your brain!" snapped Rita. "I can't be taken in. I know too much! Who do you think was the shooter who saved me?"

"What?"

"Have you even examined the wound on the pelvis? Have you even noticed that it was a different round?"

Kingsley seemed rather clueless.

"I need to go, for your own sake. Besides, you don't need me. You've got him." She nodded at the unconscious Death Eater.

Kingsley didn't do anything to prevent her from leaving. Lovegood completely forgot that he wanted to talk to her and didn't try to follow her.

Rita didn't apparate to her cottage right away. She went to an internet café first. Sure enough, there was an e-mail. Time and place and a note saying that this channel of communication was no longer to be used.

There was enough time to go to her cottage and pack. She didn't know whether it was safe to go there but there was no reason to think otherwise either. She apparated there and collected her things, just in case.

She didn't find Harry in the little bistro where the rendezvous was. Teresa was waiting there for her instead. She didn't even smile when she saw Rita.

"Hi, nice to see you," said Rita as she sat down.

"Likewise," uttered Teresa.

They exchanged a few questions and answers to verify their identities. There was a moment of silence afterwards.

"OK, say it," spoke Rita.

"We told you so," obliged Teresa. "Now they have a pretext to take you in."

"Harry isn't coming?"

"He's around. I think."

"Well, tell him I said thank you."

"That was me, if you are talking about providing cover for you. But Harry was near, covering my own back in turn."

"Oh. Well, thank you, in that case. For a moment there, I thought that it saved me from having to fire myself. Then I noticed that he was under mind control and had a Portkey and I had to use the gun anyway."

That was a lie, strictly speaking.

"Tell me about it."

Rita told her everything that had happened since the last contact. She made sure to depict the events in Flourish and Blotts.

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing that I missed," commented Teresa.

"Excuse me?"

"I was aiming right at the middle of his torso. Alas, I still tend to go down and left sometimes for some reason."

Rita laughed.

"Well, enough chitchat," stated Teresa. "Let's go."

"Go where?" asked Rita. Her first thought was that they were going to see Harry but then she started to doubt that it was all that Teresa meant.

"We need to disappear again," clarified Teresa. "All three of us. Alas, Harry suspected that you might be against that."

A shadow passed Rita's face. She looked down and thought about what she was going to say. She still couldn't believe that it was happening.

"Teresa," she started tentatively. "I can't leave now. If I leave, they will spin the story however they want. They'll say that it was me who bewitched those two guys."

"Well, it's not like you can come out of hiding anyway."

"I know. But Lovegood might be willing to cooperate again. And my publisher won't cut ties with me either, I hope."

Teresa rubbed her temples.

"Do you fully appreciate the kind of danger you are putting our entire operation in?" she asked. "If they catch you and find out what you know, which is surely more than I know, then they will also learn about Harry and many of his secrets. Also, if you stay, we will have to cut ties with you. No more e-mails, no more secret meetings."

"And if I leave and do nothing about the situation here then we will be in even greater danger. Besides, even if it wasn't so, you can't deny that we've been treading water these past few years."

Another period of silence. A longer one this time around.

"I'm going to miss you," said Teresa finally.

"You can stay with me, if you want."

"I can't. I'm not a witch and even though I don't know as much as you do, I still represent a bigger danger to Harry. Also, I don't want Harry to be alone again."

"What if he leaves you? And don't tell me that it will never happen, he might have no choice."

"Then he leaves me with a big pile of money," replied Teresa and grinned. It was quite a forced grin.

"Do you really intend to never see me again? Come on, it shouldn't be so difficult to set up some means to find each other in case all goes well. I'll tell you where am I staying."

"Don't tell me. Write it down, I'll pass it to Harry without reading it. However, we won't visit you there. Too risky. There's another method that Harry proposed. I'll tell you once you are done writing."

Rita finished writing down instructions. Teresa took the folded paper and put it in her wallet while taking a smaller piece of paper from it.

"Memorize it, burn it," she instructed.

"Is this a web address?"

"We'll register this domain in about a year. Unless someone does it first, which is improbable. Two years from now, on first September, enter this address in a browser."

"And then what?"

"I don't know. Harry himself doesn't know yet."

Rita stood up.

"Well, I guess this is a good bye," she said.

They shook hands. They didn't hug as it would be a great opportunity to place a tracking charm.

"Remember one thing about Harry," cautioned Rita.

"Yes?"

"While he's in many ways even older than he looks, he's younger in some other aspects. As a matter of fact, as young as his actual age would suggest."

Teresa didn't ask what she meant. It was rather obvious. They said their farewells and parted ways.

Teresa walked around London for a while before taking a bus to a train station. She spotted Harry but she didn't approach him. Only when they boarded a train did she join him in his compartment. Harry didn't sense any charms on Teresa but he pulled out a wand to make sure anyway.

"That's not Fletcher's wand," noticed Teresa.

"No."

He didn't elaborate. When he was finished, Teresa told him everything.

* * *

An inquest was held at the Ministry of Magic. The events which had taken place at the book event were public knowledge already because both The Quibbler and Daily Prophet had printed Rita's statement which was supported by many witnesses. Rita herself didn't show up, of course.

The man who had attacked Kingsley testified that it had been the Death Eater who took control of him. Alas, it was only a very rudimentary control. That meant no spells.

The Death Eater was a low ranking nobody. He was one of the Death Eaters detained after the war and released again for lack of evidence.

He testified under _Veritaserum_ that somebody had put him under the Imperius curse but he didn't know who. It was clear to everybody though that it must had been somebody powerful - the secondary bewitchment wouldn't be possible otherwise.

The Ministry announced that Rita was requested to subject herself to questioning. Kingsley was kind enough not to mention that Rita pointed a gun at him. The members of the Wizengamot wouldn't understand him anyway. Rita had an idea how to comply with the ministry's wishes but it required cooperation of Amelia Bones.

Another great event gained attention of the British magical population at the same time. Somebody broke into Gringotts and escaped again without being seen. The goblins made sure to emphasize that nothing was stolen. People wondered whether the two events were connected.

* * *

Severus Snape entered the headmaster's office.

"Severus," greeted him the headmaster.

"I've got some interesting information for you."

"I'm listening."

"I've conducted a little investigation among my old associates."

"Into what?"

"The attack in Flourish and Blotts and the attempted theft of the stone, of course."

"I wasn't aware that you've been looking into those."

"I thought it prudent. Anyway, no one knows anything. No, more than that. Whoever is behind it, everybody is quite sure that nobody in the old circles is connected to it."

"Yes, I've suspected that the person who's attempting to steal the stone for Voldemort acts alone and reports only to his master," agreed Dumbledore.

"And the attack on Rita Skeeter?"

"Maybe it's the same person. However, there's another possibility. What if she orchestrated the attack herself?"

"That would be inconsistent with Shacklebolt's testimony. Moreover, she isn't powerful enough to pull something like that off."

"She was gone for a long time. She could have practised."

Snape didn't argue with Dumbledore. Before Snape left, he asked whether it was wise to hide the stone in the school. The headmaster merely asked Snape to trust him.

* * *

Rita met with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Amelia Bones. It was a clandestine meeting.

"This is highly irregular," emphasized Bones. "You'd better appreciate what we are doing."

"That I do. However, something tells me that you don't like Dumbledore's and Fudge's shenanigans."

"So?"

"So I don't think you want me to fall in their hands."

"Don't be so sure, I might always change my mind. Also, I can tell them that you've been interviewed already but Fudge might override me. Now tell me, do you know where Harry Potter is?"

"No, I don't, and that's a fact. Please, use your common sense. If Harry Potter was ever in contact with me, he would cut all ties after the attack."

"Was he the shooter?" asked Kingsley.

"No. I'm sure it was somebody else. One of his friends, I think. The release of the book surely drew Potter's attention but he himself wouldn't go into the lion's den, so to speak."

Amelia sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"Let's begin," she said and nodded at Kingsley.

He handed Rita a vial of _Veritaserum_. She drank it after a brief hesitation. Kingsley started a recording device in the meantime. Amelia did away with formalities and then it was Kingsley's turn to ask questions.

"Have you put under the Imperius curse a Death Eater known as..."

* * *

Rita visited Xenophilius Lovegood.

"You took your time," he said instead of a greeting.

"Unless you have noticed, these are precarious times for me," she retorted. "I needed to straighten things with the Ministry, at least a little bit."

"Seems like they decided to leave you alone for now," commented Lovegood. "Maybe they don't want to draw any more attention to you."

Rita nodded.

"So, the big question is, who put that Death Eater under the Imperius curse?" wondered Lovegood.

"It couldn't have been a Death Eater because all Death Eaters capable of second tier bewitchment are accounted for. All of them are either in Azkaban or they have nothing to gain from such a stunt."

"Maybe some unknown Death Eater who grew to power in secret?"

"That's rather harebrained."

"Very well then. What are your theories?"

"I don't think it was the Ministry either. If they wanted me, they could always arrest me."

"Not likely," disagreed Lovegood. "That would raise too much heat. Also, they knew where to find a former Death Eater."

"Still don't think it was them. At least not the actual Ministry."

"Someone from inside the Ministry then?"

"Does Dumbledore fall into this category?"

"Rita, don't let your dislike for him to blur your judgement. However, I admit that it's one of very likely alternatives."

"The most likely, I would say," insisted Rita. "He's the one who has most to gain from learning more about Harry Potter, the one who had all the information, and the one who is most certainly powerful enough to pull it off."

"Dumbledore and the Imperius curse? That doesn't sound right."

"Why not? They say that he has changed in the years since Potter's disappearance. Besides, it wouldn't be a problem for someone like him to gobble up some other magic with similar effects."

Lovegood couldn't deny it - all of it was not only possible but also probable. Alas, probability wasn't a proof.

"Well, looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

He extended his hand to the witch and she shook it. It seemed like they were going to work together again. There was much work ahead of them indeed.

* * *

Months later, Dumbledore descended the stairs to the final chamber. Professor Quirrell stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. When he heard Dumbledore's footsteps, he turned around.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Quirrell. "How nice of you to join us." He spoke in his usual voice but there was no stuttering.

"Tom," uttered Dumbledore in response, completely ignoring Quirrell.

Quirrell turned to the Mirror again and a dark chuckle sounded from under his turban.

"Nicely done," said a voice. "The outer security seemed like designed for common thieves. But this one is here for me specifically."

"Indeed."

There was a moment of silence. Dumbledore didn't attack. It seemed like he needed something first. An information perhaps.

"I could barely believe that you attempted to kidnap that Skeeter woman," sneered Voldemort. "At first, I thought that it was one of my Death Eaters, acting on his or her own. Alas, that proved to be false soon enough."

"I take it you have no idea where Harry is?"

"Are you telling me or are you asking me?"

Dumbledore didn't answer. He was thinking about the prophecy and how it applied to the current situation. Maybe Harry was dead in which case Dumbledore was free to destroy Voldemort. That is, if the prophecy had ever any power to begin with.

Quirrell, who was studying the mirror for the whole time, finally spoke again, "What's the trick behind this mirror? I see myself presenting the stone to my lord but I don't see a way of retrieving it."

"You can't extract the stone from the mirror."

"Well then," concluded Voldemort and gave a command. Quirrell smashed the mirror.

"No!" bellowed Dumbledore. "What have you done?!"

"Enjoy explaining this to Nicolas Flamel."

Dumbledore drew his wand and attacked. Quirrell wanted to do the same but was incapacitated when Voldemort's wraith fled from him. Dumbledore's spell struck Quirrell down. The headmaster cast another spell right away. It was meant to stop the wraith but it proved ineffective. Dumbledore couldn't say that he was surprised, he didn't know very much about the nature of the wraith.

Dumbledore approached Quirrell. He was alive but it seemed that he was on the death's doorstep. Dumbledore cast a few diagnostic spells. There was no helping the man indeed. He cast a spell to temporarily stabilize Quirrell at least.

"Have you worked with him willingly?" asked Dumbledore.

Quirrell attempted to chuckle but he started to cough blood instead.

"You are a fool, Dumbledore," he rasped finally. "You proved that when you lost Potter."

Quirrell wanted to say more but he started choking again. Dumbledore attempted to interrogate him to no avail. He didn't wish to use mind reading.

As he was leaving the chamber, he considered yet another thing he was going to have a hard time explaining: Why was Quirrell dead?

* * *

Dumbledore entered Snape's laboratory.

"Severus?" he called out of habit, though he suspected that the potions master was away at the moment.

He found an envelope with his name on it. It contained Snape's resignation letter. Snape explained in it that he wished to leave Britain immediately, rather than to wait for a few more years. He wanted to have a head-start in making a new position for himself before the dark lord returned. He also apologized for not submitting his resignation in person. His reason for leaving the way he did was his suspicion that Dumbledore wouldn't accept it in a reasonable manner. Dumbledore crumpled the letter and threw it away.


	7. A Little One

A Little One

Harry and Teresa walked out of a cinema where they had just seen third instalment of the franchise which had given birth to Harry's monstrous form. It was two weeks after Australian première of the film so there weren't as many people around them.

"So, what do you think?" asked Teresa.

Harry, whose height matched Teresa's now, answered, "Not a bad attempt to return to the roots, I guess. And yet, it's different from the other two."

He was as reserved as ever. Moreover, he controlled his reactions carefully so nothing would slip. Teresa didn't let that to affect her, she was used to him being that way.

"I have to say that I enjoyed the second one a little bit more," replied Teresa. "Not because it had more action but because I liked the dynamics between the protagonist and the little girl."

They kept talking about the film on their way back to their Jeep. That is, Teresa mostly talked, Harry mostly limited himself to responses and complementary observations.

As Harry drove back to their little cottage hidden in bushland, he analysed Teresa's behaviour towards him and wondered where exactly did she want to take their relationship.

* * *

A carriage stopped in the main street of a quint village under a chateau which housed Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Luna Lovegood and other first years jumped out and ran in search of their parents.

Unlike in Britain, there wasn't any train which would take them to Paris. All young pure-blood children were picked up by their parents right from the village. Those without magical parents were broken into groups and led by chaperones through a fireplace to cities from which they were picked up by their parents. Older students travelled home on their own.

Luna attended Beauxbatons because her father didn't like the idea of his daughter being under Dumbledore's thumb. It had been a clear decision for him and he took it a year before the start of Luna's magical education. Moreover, the two of them had been toying with the idea even before that and Luna had been taking lessons of French since she was six. That last year before going to Beauxbatons had been filled with intense preparation for attending a French school. There were magical translation gadgets but Luna didn't want to rely on them.

It took Luna a moment before she found her father. He was accompanied by Rita. Not that Rita was so close to Luna but she was still closer than most people. Moreover, Xeno didn't like the idea of picking Luna up on his own for security reasons and Rita was the most reliable choice even though her presence constituted a more alluring target.

Luna made a curtsy and greeted the two adults in French. Rite responded in a wooden accent and Luna laughed softly. Xeno tried to pick his daughter up and twirl around with her. He succeeded only halfway but the action still coaxed a squeal from the girl.

It was then when Rita noted a couple of late middle aged wizards who were picking up a trio of children. The children rejoiced when they saw the couple and bounced towards them while shouting hurrays. The two adults didn't seem like the parents of the children. Perhaps same distant relation? Rita was hard-pressed to find any resemblance.

A teacher from the school approached the witch and the wizard and shook their hands. It seemed like they were well respected in the school. Something seemed oddly familiar about them to Rita but she couldn't recollect where she had seen them.

The wizard raised his head and looked at Rita. She wanted to look away quickly but something about the man's gaze told her that he meant her to notice them. Suddenly, Rita had an impression that the man nodded to her but her eyes and brain told her that he did not.

"Rita?" interrupted her Xeno, bringing her back from her reverie.

She looked at him and asked, "Did that guy just nod at us?"

"What guy?"

"Over there," pointed Rita with her head but the group was leaving already.

"I swear I know those two people from somewhere," she added.

As she thought about it, she realized that the phenomenon must had been some kind of telepathy.

It was only after their return to Britain when she found out who those people had been: Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. The children they picked up were their descendants probably. That was odd - a lot of people in France were descended from them, they couldn't possibly socialize with all of them. Perhaps it was only an excuse to be there. Perhaps they wanted to eyeball Rita and the Lovegoods.

* * *

Harry was in trouble. Big trouble. And the source of it was Teresa.

The day had started so innocently. Teresa proposed to make themselves a nice evening with dinner and perhaps some wine. (No TV though - they didn't have electricity in their cottage.) That wasn't anything out of ordinary, they tended to do that once in a while. The point of such "special occasions" was to make their self-imposed exile in Australian countryside more bearable for Teresa. Harry didn't want her to abandon him and go seek her own fortune - she knew too much.

They rode to a town and did some shopping. They opted (or rather Teresa opted) for a shark as the main course. That was a nice change from kangaroos and rabbits they usually ate. Teresa also bought a bottle of merlot.

They cooked the dinner together, cooperating like a well oiled clockwork. Once the sun touched the horizon, they sat down to a table and started with a soup. Wood was burning in their grill while they ate.

Teresa was in charge of searing the steaks, Harry assisted. There was no rush. It was completely dark by that time and the only sources of light around were hot embers in the grill and a candle on the table. They maintained light conversation.

Teresa told Harry to keep an eye on the steaks while she opened the wine and poured two glasses. Harry tended to avoid alcoholic drinks. While he didn't rely on spell-casting, he still preferred to keep his mind sharp all the time. He was pretty sure that alcohol wouldn't affect his monstrous form but changing wasn't always an option.

"I think the steaks are done," announced Harry.

Teresa checked and concurred. They returned to the table.

"Let's have a toast," proposed Teresa and they lifted their glasses. "To us and to our absent friend. May she stay safe."

They clinked their glasses. Harry sipped a little and put his glass back on the table. They started to eat. Harry made sure to compliment Teresa's skill with the grill.

They didn't talk much during the meal. One of the few exceptions was when Teresa commented that it was a shame that Rita wasn't dining with them. It seemed like a decent thing to say.

"Indeed," agreed Harry. "Then again, maybe she's having a late breakfast with the Lovegoods right now."

They knew about her cooperation with Xeno. They had even theorized how much she had revealed to him.

When they were finished, Teresa refilled her empty glass. She moved the bottle over Harry's one. It was still mostly full so he covered it with his hand.

"Oh come on," she told him. "You can relax once in a while."

"Let's go inside," proposed Harry. "It's getting cold and the wine makes us even colder."

Teresa blew the candle out. Harry put the dishes into a sink and poured hot water on them. He was going to wash them properly next day.

They sat down on a piece of furniture which loosely resembled a sofa. Teresa put the glasses on a "coffee table" next to it. They sat in silence and darkness for a little while.

"You know," said Teresa finally. "Something occurred to me."

"Yes?"

"I've been meaning to ask you about this for some time now actually. I've noticed that ever since that interview with Rita, you haven't talked about your life with the Dursleys."

Harry used the darkness to roll his eyes without Teresa noticing.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"It's not about the facts - you've revealed those already. It's more about your feelings. That is, unless you want to come clean with something. In all confidentiality, of course."

"Nope, nothing comes to mind."

Teresa sipped her wine and put the glass down again.

"Look, I'm not asking out of curiosity," she assured him. "It's just that sometimes not talking about such things can have bad consequences."

Harry was tempted to sarcastically retort something like, "Is this observation of yours coming from my body-count?" He refrained from that and conceded instead, "Very well. What should I talk about?"

Teresa thought about it for a moment. She knew what they ought to talk about but she didn't know how to broach the subject.

"You told us in Florida that your aunt and uncle didn't use physical punishments any more than was usual, right?" she asked finally.

"Yes. I was actually telling the truth. They were too smart and too careful to go any further than a quick swat with a spatula, for example. They wanted to keep their hands clean and they worried about stimulating my magic. Not having enough food and being locked up in the cupboard was safer. They left any real beating and bullying to Dudley but that was different."

"Yes, Rita explained that to me in Canada. Being brutalized by an adult creates a sense of inescapable danger in a child. If the child is magical, this can lead to accidental magic."

There was another period of silence.

"Well?" asked Teresa.

"Well what?"

"Those are dry facts from Rita's book. Care to elaborate?"

Harry sighed and humoured her, "What does the book actually say about my aunt and uncle never beating Dudley?"

"He was never disciplined for anything in any way. You were punished for everything. Rita wrote this bit rather dryly. She didn't want to paint you as a whiny sibling who thinks himself to be treated unfairly. She told me that she aimed to paint you as a house-elf."

Another silent pause.

"So, this is the moment where you tell me that there was more to it than Rita wrote," prodded Teresa.

"Of course there was more to it," snapped Harry. "The whole thing really bugged me. Not just this. Everything about the way how me and him were treated differently. It made me feel like trash."

Teresa sagged and shook her head. All that prodding and questioning and all she managed to get from Harry was, "It made me feel like trash." Then again, there wasn't much more to be gained from that line of questioning. It was just an example.

Teresa picked her glass and emptied it. "Maybe you should have drank more wine," she told Harry.

"There isn't much more to be said," insisted Harry. "They had it all figured out. Vernon wouldn't be able to do his job of the director of Grunnings if he wasn't a good planner. Petunia wouldn't be my mother's sister if she was stupid. As I think about it, their scheme was actually quite good. It was flawed, but solid in its core principle - make me loose my magic. No magic, no Hogwarts."

"What was their motivation?"

"Something like a revenge. Not personal. They wanted to achieve a victory over magic. But like I said, their plan was flawed and based on incomplete information. It wouldn't work even if Figg's kneazles didn't make Vernon go berserk."

"Yes, Rita told me that magic can't be suppressed like that."

"Indeed. However, there was another flaw which was right under their noses. Being locked in that cupboard gave a me lot of time to think."

He laughed lightly and Teresa joined him in an automatic reaction. Teresa leaned against Harry.

"Look, I'm sorry for interrogating you like that," she said after a while. "I just want you to know that I'm here if you ever want to talk about anything. I do get that you can't tell me important stuff - danger of me encountering a mind reader and all that. But sometimes, being able to tell somebody all those other things, the little things, can help you too."

"I know and I appreciate it. I have to disappoint you though. If it wasn't for the whole trying to kill me thing, there wouldn't that much to talk about as far as permanent psychological damage goes. Yes, they made me sleep in a cupboard where I was being locked up and sometimes starved but come to think about it, their treatment made me more resilient. And that was Dumbledore's plan all along, I think. He knew that I was going to be under a lot of pressure at school so he wanted me to toughen up first."

"So you agree with him?"

"Hell no. He had no right to dump me there like that and then forget about me. Moreover, it's all a moot point. He miscalculated. Three things threw his entire plan in a trash-can."

"Figg giving you a sanctuary and the kneazles attacking Vernon."

"And me, seeking sanctuary with Figg in the first place. Or needing to run at all."

Harry was walking a thin line. They were analysing his fictional version of events as if it was true. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Teresa found out that he was pulling her leg.

"And the other thing?" asked Teresa after a while. "With Vernon and Petunia planning to murder you?"

Harry took a breath and answered, "That's something that's going to stay with me for the rest of my life. I've never been so close to death. I think not even that night when Voldemort murdered my parents. I don't have to tell what was it like. You were there - in exactly the same situation. Now imagine going through that as a kid."

"Yes," whispered Teresa.

"Perhaps you would like to tell me about it?"

Teresa didn't reply right away. She thought about, trying to sort out her feelings.

"It's complicated," she said slowly.

Harry remained silent and waited for her to continue.

"I wasn't really in danger to begin with. They weren't going to kill me till they found that bastard." (She was talking about her ex.) "I think a part of me knew that. Not that it helped much. But that's not what's complicated about it."

"Then what is?"

"For almost all of my adult life, I was a kept woman," she confessed. "Mum always told me, find yourself a banker and you'll never want for anything. By that, she meant to marry one. So I found myself one. A young aspiring bank clerk. After two years of ironing his shirts, just when I started to talk about marriage, he received an internship offer. He left me behind. The second guy made it clear that I was his mistress, not a partner. Beggars can't be choosers. He emphasized that point when he stole money from Russians and ran away. Then you and Rita came along and turned my life around. So, I guess I shouldn't complain."

"I know what you are talking about," assured her Harry after a while. "I feel exactly the same way about my own near-death experience. It made me into the person I'm today."

Teresa didn't seem to have any intention of leaving her position (she was still leaning on Harry). Instead, she nestled her head on his shoulder. She knew by that point what she wanted to do but Harry was making things difficult. She wondered whether there had been some moment she missed.

"What I'm trying to say is that you and Rita are very dear to me," divulged Teresa. "I've never had this sense of belonging to a family since I was a kid."

Sensing that he needed to respond, Harry tried to lighten it up, "I think that my relationship with Rita is a little bit more professional but I feel that way about you and I think that her feelings are the same."

Harry realized that it was a mistake to try to respond to Teresa's advances naturally. That only encouraged her. So he made another kind of a natural reaction.

"I need to check the grill," he announced. "Hot embers and all."

He started to stand up while gently shifting Teresa away from him. She wasn't about to let him escape though. Maybe she needed to prove to herself that she and Harry could return to being normal one day. She grabbed the arm on which Harry balanced himself. This tripped him and he toppled back on the sofa. Before Harry could react, her lips were on his.

He didn't pull away but he didn't respond to the kiss either. What he had known all along was confirmed: he wasn't interested in women. To be precise, he wasn't interested in humans. He couldn't say that it was a surprise, he had always known that about himself. After all, he wasn't a human himself.

And that led Harry to his current predicament. In first hour, he did everything he could to work himself up and bring things into operational readiness, so to speak. He was sure that it was Teresa's longest foreplay ever.

Utilizing memories consumed from his victims didn't help. He couldn't take their recollections and apply them on his body any more than he could take an executable binary from one kind of a computer and execute it on entirely different kind.

He tried to focus on his own recollections of killing various people. He especially lingered over his memory of bringing down Moody and his team. That didn't work either but it was a step in the right direction.

Finally, he found the right turn-on for himself. It was so simple that he cursed himself for not thinking about it sooner. His pharyngeal jaw and its usage on people. Maybe something in the neural command which made the inner jaw thrust forward also affected the other thing in his human form.

Harry didn't think that the two were somehow connected, it seemed more like a coincidence that his subconsciousness connected the two. On the other hand, it was yet another confirmation of something he knew already - that his monstrous form went deeper than a mere animagi skill. He was truly the monster through and through. He had shed his humanity the day he had killed the Dursleys. The human face which he presented to Rita and Teresa was an illusion.

Very soon, Harry found out that his achievement was an empty victory. He didn't feel anything and it seemed like Teresa wasn't going to let him go until he finished. He thought about faking it but he didn't believe that she would be fooled.

He worried about arousing her suspicion. After all, his biological reactions were similar to those of a ninety year old grandpa. What if she came to a conclusion that he might be Dumbledore under Polyjuice Potion?

Another thing he thought about was Teresa's irresponsibility. Yes, his superhuman sense of smell told him that there was almost no probability of their actions having any consequences, even if he managed to get things working. The question was, had Teresa thought about it? Maybe she did and maybe that was the reason why she chose that day to make her move.

As Harry thought about that, it occurred to him that maybe that was the answer. Somehow, he knew that he was unable to give a human woman a child. However, he did know how the species which was the arch-idea of his monstrous form procreated. Moreover, he had known that before he made his first transformation. It wasn't something he had thought about when Vernon was strangling him but that didn't matter. He didn't need for it to actually work, he just needed to fool his subconsciousness, just like with the inner jaw trick before.

He imagined Teresa becoming a host to a little chest-busting monster (or rather womb-busting, in this case). That involved wanting to bring harm to the woman. That wasn't a problem because he was actually quite angry at her at the moment.

Almost an hour later, Harry finally succeeded. Teresa collapsed next to him, completely exhausted, a victorious smile on her face. She probably considered it a great triumph over demons of Harry's past. Harry didn't judge her. For all he knew, it was the first natural human contact since high school for her.

Harry needed to go outside to go for a run. He needed to burn out his frustration before he could attempt to go to sleep. Unfortunately, Teresa was decided not to fall asleep before he did. She was snuggled tight against him, her arm draped over his chest. He did his best not to let her notice how tense he was.

Harry pretended slumber. Teresa fell asleep a while later. He thought about extracting himself from her arms but he didn't want to risk waking her up. So he laid there for the whole night, stared at the ceiling, and thought about his strategy for next day.

When Teresa woke up at morning, Harry was making breakfast already. For a moment, she recollected bits and pieces of the previous night.

"Hi," interrupted her Harry, handing her a cup of tea.

"Thanks," she replied and took a sip.

"Well, Harry," she continued. "Wow."

"It's just herbal tea," he joked.

"I mean wow to yesterday. It was the best day of my life and I didn't even aim to make it so."

"Well, its ending was certainly unusual for me."

Teresa took another sip and apologized, "I'm sorry if I pressured you. I thought that it would do you well."

"I was certainly out of my element there, as you might have noticed, and not just because I'm too young. It took me a long time to relax and forget about everything."

"Troubled mind?"

"Something like that. There was a lot of confusion in my head and even more worries about where is this going to lead."

Teresa took his hand and kissed it. "Tell me," she prodded him.

Harry tore away from her and almost snapped, "I don't want to loose you!"

There. That was the gem of his charade. Mask his strangeness behind fear.

"Why would you loose me?" asked Teresa, confused.

Harry sat back down and explained, "Your friendship is very important to me. You said yesterday that we were like a family. That's of even greater value. Do you really wish to risk all of that by having a romantic relationship? What if we find out that we can't stand each other? Hell has no fury like a woman scorned and all that."

Teresa rubbed her eyes. "Look," she started. "Don't think for a second that I would let any failings of yours as my boyfriend destroy what we had before. I've told you that I'm with you two until Dumbledore's defeat and beyond. Where else could I possibly utilize my marksmanship skills?" She made a pause to let out a bout of sardonic laughter. "But more than that. I'm the adult here. Or maybe I should say elder since my youth is gone, I think. The point is that I'm able to take responsibility for any mistakes I make so there's no need for you to worry about hurting my feelings. If you decide that you don't want what I'm offering, I won't be offended. If you ask me to give you space, you will have it."

"More like time," uttered Harry. "I assure you, I don't look like an adult because I travel in time. I'm twelve years old, as you surely know."

Teresa looked down in shame, remembering Rita's warning. When she looked up again, she was grinning cheekily.

"You know, there were times when kids used to marry at such an age," she drawled.

Harry threw a pillow at her.

* * *

"I'm telling you, the Flamels could be valuable allies to us," insisted Rita.

"And why, pray tell, would they want to ally with us?" retorted Xeno. "And for that matter, why would they decide to go against Dumbledore? If what they say is true and the stone has been destroyed than they might want to spend the rest of their lives in peace. That's what I would do if I was in their place."

"Maybe they don't think that the stone has been destroyed. Maybe it isn't about survival or living out their remaining years in peace. Maybe they simply don't want Dumbledore to have it."

"That's a lot of maybes."

"It's simple. I'll accompany you again next month when you bring Luna back to Beauxbatons. If we see them, we'll talk to them."

It was only then when they noticed that Luna was eavesdropping on them.

"Honey. Have we woken you?" asked Xeno.

"I haven't even fallen asleep yet."

"Well, I was about to leave," announced Rita. "Good night, you two."

* * *

Harry and Teresa were cleaning their guns. Suddenly, Teresa put down her can of Ballistol and wavered as she was hit by a feeling of vertigo and nausea.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"It's nothing," dismissed it Teresa.

Harry started to have a bad feeling. Teresa gasped and her hand went down to her belly.

"This is impossible," gasped Teresa. She meant two things at the same time by that. For one, it was highly improbable. Second, it was way too soon.

Harry couldn't say that he was terribly surprised. Somewhere in his mind, he had suspected such an outcome. He felt a sense of deja-vu when he watched the scene unfold in front of him. It was almost identical to what he had seen in the first film of a certain science fiction franchise. The only difference was that the creature didn't burst out of the subject's chest. That detail was always difficult for him to swallow from a scientific point of view. The film was a little bit fuzzy in this regard and Harry always wondered where exactly did the larvae gestate and how did it got there after it was shoved down the victim's throat. His way made much more sense.

Harry admitted that he was going to miss Teresa. He even pitied her as she rolled around in spasms of pain and screamed. He hoped that a situation was never going to arise when he would sorely regret not having a comrade as dependable as her. It was her unconditional loyalty that made her more valuable than Rita. On the other hand, she was also a liability so it was a draw in the end.

There was only on thing left to be done - he needed to know everything which had been ever told to her by Rita. It was an edge he needed for future dealings with the journalist. He transformed into his extraterrestrial form and turned Teresa on her back. There was terror in her eyes. When the creature emerged in a spray of blood and gore, Harry consumed the woman's memories.

When he "came out", the little creature was still there. Its appearance was exactly as one would expect. Unlike in the film though, it didn't seem like it was going to run and hide somewhere in a corner. That was logical. There was plenty of food right where it was and its mother was near (with the food being Teresa and the mother being Harry).

Harry cast his mind out and sensed for the little creature. True enough, it was there. Nothing definite, just its presence, but Harry suspected that the two of them were a beginning of a hive.

They couldn't stay at the cottage. It wasn't exactly well hidden. He also couldn't just burn the cottage down and leave, that would be to conspicuous. He had to go about it the complicated way.

First of all, he refrained from turning back into a human. It could confuse the little one and Harry couldn't risk that. Next, he cloaked himself and made sure that no one was in the area.

He needed to move Teresa's body and other things in their Jeep (now only his). He grabbed some blankets from the house and laid them next to the body which was still being used as a nest by his offspring. He had a feeling that the little one was going to leave once the flesh lost its freshness but it was sufficient for the time being. He gently picked the body up and laid it on the blankets without disturbing the little one. He moved the bundle in the car.

The blood stains and pieces of gore needed to be cleaned away. Thankfully, the whole thing had happened outside. It still took a long time.

Finally, he packed weapons, ammo, money, and documents and put it all in the Jeep. He made the cottage look like its inhabitants left for a long time.

It was still over an hour till sunset and Harry decided to wait for darkness. He spent the time by watching the infant who bit a piece of meat of Teresa's body from time to time. Driven by a streak of cynicism, Harry tickled the creature which reacted in an indifferent way.

Darkness fell. Harry started the engine and drove off. It was somewhat awkward because he couldn't use his human form but he managed.

As he looked around and gave the cottage one last look, he thought that it was good that he had already registered the DNS domain which he wanted to use in contacting Rita.

Later on, after they reached their destination and the infant left the carcass, Harry buried Teresa. Harry thought briefly whether it wasn't a weakness to show such human sentiment but there was no reason not to do that and he felt that he owed her that much. A random observer would get a truly bizarre sight: an alien monster digging up a grave.

Harry unwrapped Teresa's body and laid her to rest. He didn't put a cross on the grave but rather opted for a simple flat stone on which he faintly scratched her name.

He lingered over the grave for a moment and contemplated some of the events of the last several years. What happened that day confirmed that he wasn't a human (not that he needed a confirmation). The question was, had a piece of humanity remained in him after he had killed the Dursleys? Another question was, where had that piece came from originally? Maybe some deep memory from that one year he had spent with his parents? Another explanation was more probable. Maybe it had been just an illusion created by his decision to get a taste of human life. Back then, it seemed like an opportunity to learn and experience something new. Well, whatever it had been, it was gone. Dead, due to his own actions.

In the morning, Harry took the blood-stained blankets and started to burn them. He took the infant and sat with it by the fire. It (she?) needed to learn not to fear flames. Yes, they were dangerous, but panic was too.

Later that day, he watched as the somewhat grown offspring took down a small dingo. Something like a pride swelled in his acid-filled heart. He knew what his new responsibilities and goals were. He knew where his future laid. Dumbledore and Voldemort were just a side show.

* * *

The Flamels didn't show up in September. Rita reasoned that it was too soon.

News about Harry Potter being absent from Hogwarts again spread quickly. Not that anybody was surprised. It did renew interest in his whereabouts. Rita made a public statement that she had nothing new to add. Daily Prophet decided to address every magical school on the planet and inquire whether Potter wasn't studying there secretly.

Albus Dumbledore proposed a new law which he had prepared during the summer. It was granting the headmaster of Hogwarts new powers over orphaned students. Xeno decided to give it his personal attention. Rita helped to cover it but there wasn't much for her to do.

Having time on her hands, she decided to research and perhaps write an article about Dumbledore's background. She didn't know whether there was any dirt to find but she was certainly going to try. It would provide a nice context to all those things which Dung had told Harry about Dumbledore. For all she knew, there was enough dirt to write a book. Alas, she had to be careful. If Dumbledore found out, he would certainly strive to stop her.

Rita's prediction about Nicolas Flamel proved true when it was time to pick Luna up after her second year at Beauxbatons. He asked to talk to them in private. However, Xeno had to return home with Luna so only Rita took the offer.

"I assume you wish to talk about Dumbledore," she stated when they were away from the crowds and Nicolas cast a privacy charm.

"You can do better than that," observed Nicolas dryly.

"And the stone," added Rita.

Nicolas nodded.

"If I may," asked Rita. "Why did you give him the stone for safekeeping in the first place?"

"At the time, it seemed like a better option than keeping it with us. Big target for Voldemort - somebody who can float through any physical obstacle and almost any magical ward."

That gave Rita a pause. She didn't think about that very much.

"So it's true?" she asked. "He's still alive?"

"He wasn't alive since he was a boy, if Albus is to be believed."

"But he's still around in some capacity."

"Oh yes," whispered Nicolas gloomily. "I can't say that my wife and me are too unhappy about ageing again. There's certainly much chaos ahead of us."

"Is that another reason why you gave Dumbledore the stone?"

"I'm sorry, that's personal. All we want to know is whether Albus has the stone."

"And you want me to find out? How am I supposed to do that? As you might know, I strive to keep away from Dumbledore."

"Perhaps someone in his circle who might be guilt-tripped into giving you the information?"

Rita thought about Minerva right away. What if her offer had been genuine and she was truly willing to operate behind Dumbledore's back? For a moment, she suspected that Nicolas was still with Dumbledore and that he was using her to test Minerva's loyalty. Rita dispelled the thought immediately.

"Very well, I'll do my best," answered Rita. She didn't ask what was in it for her. Nicolas was going to reward her or the Quibbler if he deemed it appropriate.

It was summer so it wasn't too difficult to arrange a meeting with Minerva.

"Professor McGonagall, thank you for coming," greeted her Rita.

The teacher replied with a nod of her head.

"Professor McGonagall, you asked for a certain offer to be extended to a certain somebody some time ago."

"Indeed."

"If I may ask, what led you to do that?"

"I thought that if there was a chance that it was in your power to do that, then it was the right thing to do."

"Well, that's a sound reasoning. However, I was talking about your deeper motivation for helping Harry."

Minerva didn't answer right away. For a moment, she thought about leaving.

"I was a friend of his parents. I thought that I owed him that much."

Rita sensed something more but she didn't press the issue.

"Very well. I'm going to tell you something extremely secret now. You must not talk to anybody about it, especially not Dumbledore."

That got Minerva's attention.

"Are you actually in contact with him?" she asked.

"No, definitely not. However, now that some time has passed and the trail has gotten cold, I can tell you that back then I was able to send a message to certain people connected to him. This message told him about my plans and about your offer. I got a very sparse answer back later."

"And?"

"Well, your offer was ignored, strictly speaking. However, one needs to look at it in a certain light. It merely meant that he opted not to say anything for safety reasons because he had nothing concrete to say to it at the moment. You are too close to Dumbledore after all."

"I see," retorted Minerva after a while. "I presume this isn't all that you wanted to tell me."

"You are quite right. I spoke with Nicolas Flamel last month."

"Are you serious? The Nicolas Flamel?"

"The very one. He's concerned for Dumbledore."

That was a big, fat lie. Alas, Rita had to paint her inquiry in a nice colour.

"Why?" asked Minerva.

"He fears that recent events with Harry Potter, or rather lack of them, might drive Dumbledore to do something stupid with the stone. If used incorrectly, it might have disastrous effects."

Minerva didn't have to ask whether she meant the Philosopher's Stone.

"The stone is out of anybody's reach."

"But not destroyed?"

Minerva hesitated and then explained about the mirror. She was certain that the mirror had been destroyed and she was fairly certain that Dumbledore had hidden the stone in there. Of course, she couldn't be sure that he hadn't removed the stone before the destruction of the mirror. Rita thanked her and they parted ways.

Nicolas Flamel was familiar with the Mirror of Erised and found the story quite plausible.

"I think he never expected to be able to retrieve the stone from the mirror," he theorized. "He probably planned to return the stone along with the mirror."

As he was leaving, Nicolas leaned towards Rita and divulged in a low voice, "Aberforth. That's the man you want to talk to."

It took a moment before Rita remembered who Aberforth was and realized that Nicolas was talking about her campaign against Dumbledore.

"His brother? Why would he tell me anything?"

"I'm sure you'll find the right thing to say to him that will make him talk. Farewell."

That was the last time she saw him. The Flamels retreated from public life even more than ever before.

* * *

Something extraordinary happened that summer. Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. No information regarding the means used were published and officials were tight lipped even around respected journalists.

Rita had her own theory though. Some of the old Death Eaters who had evaded imprisonment surely wanted Harry Potter found and destroyed. However, they were unable to embark on such a quest themselves because they couldn't abandon their lives and because they were known figures and their absence would be noted. That wasn't a concern for Sirius Black though and it probably wasn't that difficult for his comrades to arrange his escape.

It was clear to Rita that she herself was a lead which Black might try to follow. It wasn't like Dumbledore didn't wish to do the same but it still doubled the danger. It was something to consider before her scheduled meeting with Harry.

When the first of September came, Rita didn't accompany the Lovegoods to France. There was no need to anyway and Xeno didn't expect her to do that.

Rita went to an Internet café instead. She crossed her fingers and entered the web address.

A bland grey page appeared. There was a line of text on top, a simple text field under it, and finally a confirm button. The text read: "Who are you?"

Rita didn't know what kind of programming was behind the page but it seemed like a sloppy work to her. She was going to have to enter answers exactly as Harry expected. She entered her name and clicked on the button.

The text field cleared and the text on top changed. Rita didn't understand at first but then she remembered that it was the very first question she had asked Harry to confirm his identity when he returned to them in New York. Rita closed her eyes and entered Harry's response exactly as he said it, word by word.

The grey page disappeared and the browser displayed a simple text on white background. Name of a (presumably) goblin bank and a vault number. Rita closed the browser and, out of curiosity, started it again and entered the address again. All she got this time was an error message.

The question was, should she go with Sirius Black at large? Once again, Rita told herself that she was already taking plenty of precaution because of Dumbledore. Moreover, it was possible that Harry didn't know about Black.

Later that day, Rita found out that the bank was in Australia. That sounded sensible - plenty of space to hide there.

She thought about telling Xeno in person that she was going away. In the end, she decided against it - it seemed too risky. She sent a message instead, telling him that she was following a lead.

Rita travelled to Australia by non-magical means, using her Joan Clarke identity. It was her intention to return by a Portkey though. She used her time in the airliner to write down all the information she wanted to give to Harry, in case he never intended to meet her in person and the bank merely served as a drop-box.

When she arrived to the bank and gave them the vault number, they asked her name. She hesitated for a moment before she told them her real name. It seemed like a logical thing to do.

She went through a standard identity check. Before she knew it, they were inviting her to follow them to a vault. Rita found that strange. She had expected some additional safeguards.

Her confusion was dispelled when they reached the vault. There was a door with a small hole in it. The goblins asked her to surrender her wand.

"If you are who you claim to be, then you won't need a wand or a key to get into the vault," said a goblin. "There's a glow-globe inside next to the door. Just tap it."

Rita feared for a moment that they knew her secret. Alas, it seemed like they were merely doing Harry's bidding. She gave them her wand.

Everybody left. Rita looked around and once she was sure that nobody was watching her indeed, she transformed into her animal form. The hole was much bigger than it needed to be. Harry knew that her animal form was small but it seemed that he didn't know how much small.

Once inside, Rita lit the glow-globe. It gave dim blueish light.

There was a small chest. For a moment, Rita feared that she was truly supposed to leave her intel there and leave. She opened it and found a piece of paper. An address and a time.

There were several days left but Rita went to investigate the address already. It was a bistro. How original, she thought.

Having time to spare, Rita unpacked her materials about the Dumbledore family. What was it that Aberforth knew about his brother and how could she possibly make him to talk? Given the context, it was possible that Nicolas had meant the same thing Rita had used on Minerva - Harry Potter. However, Aberforth had nothing to do with the Potters. So maybe it wasn't the victim but the crime (Dumbledore's treatment of little Harry). Had Dumbledore done something like that before?

When the day came, Rita went to the bistro. Exactly at the specified time, Harry entered. That surprised Rita a little, she expected to see Teresa instead. Harry spotted Rita and beckoned to her to follow him out to his Jeep.

When she caught up with him, she told him how glad she was to see him again. He told her dryly to get in the car. He seemed different.

They exchanged some identity checking questions and answers while he drove. There was a period of silence afterwards.

When they were well beyond town, Harry found a spot to stop. Nobody was around. They left the car by the road and went away a little. They sat down on some boulders.

"Well," uttered Harry. It seemed like he didn't know what to say.

Rita was about to launch into a detailed depiction of what was she up to, especially recent events with Nicolas Flamel and Sirius Black.. She stopped herself though and once again pondered Teresa's absence. She voiced her question.

"Teresa..." tried Harry and broke off. "She's gone."

Somehow, Rita didn't think that Harry meant that she had left.

"What happened?" she asked tentatively.

Harry stood up, turned away, and looked at a horizon for a moment.

"After we left Britain and came here, we, Teresa and I, we, you know."

Rita narrowed her eyes. Was he hinting at what she thought he was hinting at? The very one thing she had warned Teresa not to do?

"One day, we found out that she was with child," blurted Harry, confirming Rita's suspicion.

All of it started to fall out from Harry, like some grand confession. Not a single word in his story came as unexpected.

"We didn't want any doctors, mundane or magical. Teresa especially. She told me that the child was in danger because of me, that if Dumbledore found out, he would strive to use him or her to manipulate me."

Rita stood up and put her hand on Harry's back.

"So we planned to deliver the baby at home," continued Harry. "I bought some books and supplies. We thought we would be fine. Then some strange things started to happen around her. Mostly things falling from shelves and such. Does that make any sense?"

"Yes, actually it does. Magical babies do that sometimes. It's not common, but far from unheard of. I don't think I've heard about it in a case of a non-magical mother."

Harry didn't continue right away. When he did resume his story, his voice was full of dark foreboding. He still wouldn't look Rita in the eye.

"She started to have pains when she was eight months along. We had no idea what was happening. She got worse but the water didn't break so we didn't think it was that. I thought... we thought that the water always breaks first. I researched it later. It's not true. Did you know that?"

"I guess I've never really thought about that," murmured Rita, eyes closed, trying to imagine the scene.

"I wanted to get her to a hospital but she screamed at me that it was too late. The water broke then. There was so much blood and things started to fly around. Like a magical storm. Then all fell silent. She must have felt pain still but not a muscle moved on her face. She told me that the child was dead."

Rita kept patting his back, trying to soothe him by making circles with her hand.

"I knew that I had to get it out of her, whether she was right or wrong. Not that I had any doubts. I had no idea how was I supposed to do that, she didn't even seem dilated sufficiently. She passed away before I could decide what to do."

Harry sighed deeply as he finished his recount. He turned around and they hugged. There was no denying that Teresa was dear to both of them. The difference between them was that Rita's world was somewhat broader. She was a family friend of the Lovegoods and she had other associates. She couldn't imagine what was it like for Harry to loose Teresa after he had finally learned how not to be alone.

"Have you find out what went wrong?" asked Rita after they sat down again.

Harry shook his head. "There was no reason to disturb Teresa's body," he explained. "I buried them together."

Rita realised that he meant with the child still inside Teresa. For some reason, she found the notion repulsive, unnatural.

"What if the child was still alive?" argued Rita. "You could have tried some of that non-magical resuscitation."

Harry shook his head. "I used my animal form to check. No heartbeat. Perhaps a doctor would have been able to do something but not me."

It was the first time Harry openly admitted that he was an animagus. Rite knew that he had known that she had known but he never said it so explicitly before. Him being an animagus also explained his rapid growth.

They sat there for several minutes in complete silence.

"You can't write about this," whispered Harry finally. "Ever."

"Of course I can't," almost snapped Rita. "That wouldn't fit in our campaign against Dumbledore. And if somebody ever discovers who was that shooter three years ago, we'll just say that Dumbledore's people hunted her down in revenge for foiling his plans. After all, the blame for this can be laid squarely on his shoulders anyway. If it wasn't for him, Teresa would be able to give birth in a hospital."

Harry didn't answer.

"Then again, Teresa also bears a small part of responsibility for what happened to her," added Rita after a half a minute.

"How so?"

"When I saw her the last time, I specifically told her not to try anything with you. I already knew back then that she was going to disobey me. What you need to understand is that unlike you, she wasn't a child. She knew what she was doing and was ultimately responsible for her own actions."

Harry chuckled and replied, "She told me something similar the morning after she took my virginity."

Another few minutes of silence. During that time, both of them pondered over the whole conversation.

Harry wasn't sure about the integrity of his story and suspected that Rita might see through it. However, there was one thing playing in his favour - his emotions. He knew that he wouldn't be able to fool Rita if he pretended his grief and guilt so he did the only he thing he could - he allowed himself to feel those for real. After all, he did feel some grief.

Rita's thoughts were going along similar lines. Parts of the story seemed construed a little but she didn't call him out on it out of decency. She suspected that he was hiding something. The child, most probably. As she saw it, the child was too powerful for Teresa, considering her non-magical status and slightly advanced age. However, it didn't sound like Harry to just give up. He was a pragmatic person and he wouldn't panic like that. Given a choice between death of the mother and death of them both, he would always choose the former. So that meant that he had a child on his hands. That certainly complicated things and it was dangerous to even think about it consciously. Where did he leave it? Was somebody looking after the baby? Maybe she should cut the meeting short.

"You aren't coming to Britain with me, are you?" she stated.

Harry shook his head. Rita stood up and stood in front of Harry.

"Here," she said and handed him an envelope with her report. "In case you decide that you aren't giving up completely."

Harry looked up and took the envelope.

"Everything I could find out about Sirius Black is in there, among other things. He escaped from Azkaban, in case you haven't heard yet."

"Did he? No, I haven't heard."

"My advice is, hide well. But that's all written there as well."

"I wouldn't make a drama out of this if I were you," shrugged Harry. "Everything we know about him and his case is a hearsay. Maybe Voldemort had some kind of a hold over him. Maybe he killed Peter in self defence. Maybe he simply wishes to explain and ask for my forgivenesses. But yes, I will do as you say. I have no desire to meet him. However, if I may make a suggestion, do try to research his case a little. It could make for an interesting story and make another spot on Dumbledore's reputation."

He spoke in an absent, disinterested voice.

"Maybe. If it's safe," acknowledged Rita.

Harry folded the envelope in half and put it in his pocket. Obviously, he meant to look at it later, when he felt like it. Still, Rita offered another commentary.

"You'll find my recount of my recent meeting with Minerva McGonagall in there too. She won't work for Dumbledore forever and once she retires, you might want to use her tutoring services. Or your kids, if you ever have them. Do you want me to pass a word to her?"

She observed his reaction. There was a small ironic smirk, almost unnoticeable. Rita didn't know what to make of it. Was she wrong about the child surviving?

"I can stay for some time, if you wish," she offered.

Harry shook his head and answered, "Unless you want to stay for good, don't stay at all."

That corroborated her theory but she couldn't allow herself to dwell on that.

"Are we going to set another meeting in the future?"

Harry shook his head again.

"Well, you know where to find me."

They shared another long hug, this time as a goodbye. Rita then walked away a few paces and disapparated.

She was back in Britain in a few hours. She thought about talking to Xeno and giving him a hint that he ought to forget all about Harry Potter but it was too soon.

Later that day, when sun was setting, the monstrous Harry and his drone crawled on a hill from which they could overlook an Aboriginal village. It was a test of the drone's stealth abilities. Her task was to kidnap the chief of the village without anybody noticing. The chief wasn't very popular and had many enemies so his disappearance wasn't going to be that weird. Alas, the drone didn't understand or even know such things.

As Harry observed her (he was thinking about his offspring as "she") lithe body weaving among shadows, he couldn't but notice that stealth came more naturally to her than to him when he had been as long into his transformation as she was old.

Ten minutes later, they were both in safe distance from the village and the chief was their captive. Harry gave a mental signal and the drone thrust her inner jaw through the chief's skull.


	8. The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore

The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore

Sirius Black was spotted in Hogwarts. When Rita visited Hogsmeade for her meeting with Aberforth Dumbledore, she tried to find out more. No one seemed to know how had he managed to get inside or why, for that matter. Not wanting to risk getting caught by Albus Dumbledore on his own turf, she didn't loiter and went about her business.

Aberforth Dumbledore didn't tell her much even though his dislike for his brother was noticeable. Maybe he disliked Rita even more. However, something about Harry Potter's story pricked a sensitive spot in him. Thanks to that, she didn't leave empty handed.

Bathilda Bagshot, the author of the main history textbook used in Hogwarts - that was her new lead. Rita doubted that Bathilda knew more than Aberforth but it was better than nothing.

Rita briefed Xenophilius about her progress when she returned. As they planned their next move, she thought that maybe it was time to answer his question. He had not asked it directly but he hinted at it. Was Harry Potter going to join their effort against Albus Dumbledore?

"Xeno?"

"Yes?"

"I think that enough time has passed for it to be safe to tell you something."

Xeno waited for her to continue.

"Some time ago, I had an opportunity to communicate with a person who was authorized to speak on Potter's behalf."

"And?" prodded Xeno. He wasn't surprised by the revelation.

"I don't think he's coming."

Xeno remained silent for a while. Then he asked, "Why do you think that?"

Rita hesitated, searching for the right words. "Because someone dear to both of us died. The shooter from the book signing, to be precise."

Xeno processed the first sentence slowly. Telling him that she and Harry used to have at least one shared friend was a huge reveal. Alas, she considered it a right decision.

"Dumbledore was responsible," she continued. "Not directly, but still responsible."

"Shouldn't he want a revenge then?"

"There are two options. Either he's going to go after Dumbledore directly, or he's going to pull back to protect whatever he's got left. In neither case is he going to join our effort to discredit Dumbledore's image."

"Isn't he a little too young for that?"

"It's ill advised to underestimate him because of his age. Voldemort was first to make such a mistake."

Xeno cringed when she said the name.

"However, it's possible that he'll pull back first and go after him later."

They took a short break. They resumed their discussion of Rita's "Dumbledore project" afterwards.

"Do you intend to publish your findings like a book again?" asked Xeno.

"Indeed. A biography. Don't tell me that I'll be doing him a favour - I'm sure there will be at least a few juicy morsels in it. Why else would Nicolas Flamel lead me to this course? And my meeting with Aberforth gave me the same impression."

"What about your publisher?"

"They are game. We are going to market it as book two of my research. That's good. While we had to present the Harry Potter book as a dramatized theory because I couldn't reveal my ties with him, this one will be a straight biography. This will shine a new light on the first one."

Xeno nodded. While Quibbler could theoretically print a book, they weren't prepared for it. Investments would be needed and Xeno was glad to avoid the necessity. He had no wish to turn his paper into a book publishing company.

"When are you going to see Bathilda?" he asked.

"I was thinking tomorrow. She's a recluse from what I've heard so I don't think I'll need an appointment.

"She was close to Dumbledores. Maybe she won't be so eager to talk to you."

"Do you offer to accompany me?"

"If you'd like. Or we can send one of my writers instead of us. After all, I was helping you in your campaign."

"No, I need to be there. And no Polyjuice Potion either. However, it could prove useful for you to come along. Maybe she'll react better to you."

* * *

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Rita when they returned from Bathilda next day. "Dumbledore and Grindelwald! How does it come that no one knows that they used to be buddies?"

She had to admit that Bathilda had been quite sharing. Maybe it was because of the relatively recent passing of her great-nephew: Gellert Grindelwald. It was possible that she suspected that Dumbledore had had his fingers in it. After all, it happened when Dumbledore was visiting Grindelwald (why was he visiting him in the first place?). While Bathilda most certainly didn't grieve for the dark wizard, she couldn't condone murder. Unfortunately, there were gaps in what Bathilda knew.

Xeno furrowed his brows in confusion. He didn't understand Rita's muggle exclamation.

"Well, it was after he graduated so the only people who knew about it were people close to the family," he replied. "It's understandable that Albus Dumbledore doesn't advertise this fact. Remember that not even Aberforth himself revealed this to you, even though he obviously wanted the truth to get out - he wouldn't send you to meet Bathilda otherwise."

"Perhaps he didn't wish to feel like a backstabber. He may not like his brother but he won't leak dirt about him to press. It's a pity. The things he must know."

"He could be persuaded to talk but not by us."

It was clear to Rita that Xeno was talking about Harry Potter. Too bad, that ship was gone.

"We'll find other people who know something. Then we'll put all those little pieces together with Bathilda's recount and cross-reference it, interpolate it, and... whatever. There's something else that I wonder about right now."

"And that is?"

"What did Bathilda mean when she was talking about how much they had been close?"

Xeno suspected what it could possibly mean. However, he found it inappropriate to consider such a thing.

"What does it matter?" he argued. "We've just learned that he wanted us to come out of hiding. And the matter with Ariana's death..."

"I assure you, this is more important. Such juicy news, if it pans out!"

Xeno frowned.

"I think that your stay in the non-magical world has corrupted you," he remarked.

"On the contrary. It showed me our own future."

Xeno snorted.

"Our magical society is in a moment between stages," elaborated Rita.

"What stages?"

"Imagine bringing this up twenty years ago. We were always quite tolerant in this regard but we expected such people to be considerate in return. We didn't speak about it, we preferred not to see it, and they were discreet. So if we published such a thing, it would be condemned by both sides. One side would say that they didn't ask to be told about it. The other would be angry for revealing such a personal thing. The situation in muggle world is becoming quite the opposite. Such people aren't expected to hide their nature any more while everybody else is supposed to act like it's the most natural thing."

"For Merlin's sake, could you keep these details to yourself?"

"To their defence, British muggles do have a history of intolerance in this area. When Dumbledore met Grindelwald, such things were punishable by prison!"

"That's evil!" exclaimed Xeno.

"Whatever," brushed Rita his indignation off. "The point is that the magical world of Britain is now in that sweet sweet period of time in between. At least for us journalists. Revealing this about Dumbledore will be considered a sensation! By younger people at least."

"A lot of important people are from generations which would condemn us for bringing it up."

"Well, such old people are going to retire soon enough."

Xeno shook his head and resolved, "I hope you don't expect Quibbler to help to spread such news. If they are confirmed, that is."

"Don't worry. This will be purely for my book. Now, I propose to take a closer look at Grindelwald's death. And thorough investigation of Black's case won't hurt either."

She already had an idea where to begin: old plans of gas pipes in the area.

"Careful," cautioned Xeno. "It might attract him to you. And me, in extension."

"Don't worry. We won't publish anything unless its something unexpected. We'll discuss it when I know more."

"And don't you try to contact Remus Lupin either. From what I've heard, he's still loyal to Dumbledore."

* * *

Months later, it became clear that Sirius Black was no longer present in the area of Hogwarts. The whole thing remained a mystery though everybody believed that he had been looking for clues about Potter's whereabouts. Even Rita thought so. Not even her learned about a little insignificant fact that Ron Weasley's rat was missing. Even if she had known, she would have never made the connection.

She found something else though - about Peter's confrontation with Sirius. The gas explosion had not been just a cover story. It was so easy to make that story work for muggles because that was exactly what had happened.

* * *

Rita and Xeno were debriefing a Quibbler reporter who returned from the final match of The Quidditch World Cup. Not that Quibbler was interested in sport but the reporter had been fishing for all sorts of scandals and rumours.

"A triwizard tournament?" asked Xeno incredulously.

"That's what I've heard," confirmed the reporter.

"It hasn't been held for many years!" marvelled Xeno.

"Maybe they wish to distract the public from the fact that Harry Potter is still gone," suggested Rita.

Xeno was about to rebuff her but then he came to a conclusion that Rita's theory was quite plausible.

They agreed that it would be a bad idea for either of them to cover the event. Rita especially was determined to never set foot in Hogwarts. They asked the reporter to cover it as well. Later on, Rita found out that an acquaintance of hers from Daily Prophet was assigned there as well. They arranged for the two of them to work together secretly and divide the news. Daily Prophet and The Quibbler were after different kind of those so competition wasn't a problem.

Later that year, the same reporter shared with Xeno his suspicion about Crouch's absence. Rita had her hands full with her upcoming book and Sirius Black investigation and it was ill advised for her to expose herself too much, especially by visiting one of Dumbledore's old friends. Hence, Xeno himself assumed the task of finding out what was wrong with Crouch.

After two weeks, Xeno became convinced that something was definitely fishy about Crouch's absence. He was supposed to be in his home but no one had seen him. He confided in Rita and asked her if she had any way of finding more.

On first look, this seemed straightforward to Rita. It would be a simple matter for her to fly in Crouch's house in her beetle form and look what was going on there. However, Rita was far too paranoid to think like that. Dumbledore probably suspected that she was an animagus - that's how she had escaped from her own flat when he had confronted her there years before. Crouch was his friend. For all she knew, it was a trap.

And so it happened that no one found out that Crouch was dead until summer. The tournament was over by then and the foreign students returned to their schools. It was as a huge scandal as it was a mystery. Percy Weasley lost his job because of it as it was his gullibility which made it possible to hide his boss's death for so long. Winky, Crouch's house-elf and the only person who could possibly shed some light on the mystery, was missing.

Xeno wrote about it all, of course. However, anything that Quibbler printed on the matter was lost among Daily Prophet and all the other outlets which obviously covered the topic as well.

Rita didn't pay much attention to it though. She was validating all her materials for her upcoming book - "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore". It was clear to her that all her information needed to be bulletproof. It would be easier if Dumbledore was dead and unable to refute her claims.

She collected some basic facts about Sirius Black as well. She was debating whether she should include them in her book or leave them for another one. In the end, she concluded that she could always reuse the materials if she ever decided to give Black's case its own book. Moreover, it was her goal to insert as many threads leading to Potter in her book as possible and Black was without a doubt quite a thick thread.

* * *

Captain of a relatively small but luxurious ocean cruiser arrived to the bridge.

"What is it?" he asked the first mate.

"Both the primary and secondary computer are down," reported the officer.

"How's this possible? What happened?"

"We don't know, sir. Maybe it's another zero-division problem. If the primary computer encountered an unexpected input, the secondary one would react the same way."

That made perfect sense. The two computers were identical - hardware, operating system, and software.

"Damn it!" cursed the captain. "In the old days, we didn't need such gizmos."

On a modern ship like theirs, nothing worked without computers. Navigation, propulsion, communication - all of that gone. Only a few systems (such as backup lights and water pumps) were designed to function independently.

"Sir, we've still got a couple of satellite phones, not counting the ones brought by some of the passengers. I suggest we send an SOS, as the procedure dictates."

"Call for help? And what are they going to do when they get here? Help us find a reset button? Help us press control, alt, delete?"

"It's not that simple."

"I know, dammit. If we send SOS because of a software error, our company will be a laughing stock. The board won't care about us following the proper procedure, we may loose our jobs! Now, the passengers don't know anything yet. Let's keep it that way. Have our IT guys start working on a fix for this - they need to be done before sunrise. And get me one of those satellite phones, I still need to notify our bosses."

The first mate was right about one thing - resetting the system wasn't going to work because it didn't fail because of an unexpected input. It was sabotaged by Harry Potter.

What he really needed was to cut communication off. However, if he had sabotaged those systems directly, it would have aroused suspicion and SOS would be sent using one of the hand-held satellite phones on board. Computer failure wasn't anything strange though - especially after several such incidents in recent years.

The captain found a secluded corner on the deck and turned on the phone. Before it could make a connection with a satellite, Harry attacked. A while later, the captain's knowledge was his.

A dozen of drones were with Harry. Not the future queen (that first one), nor her guard.

He didn't order the drones to mount a full scale attack yet. He wanted to do it all quietly and he wanted to keep as many of the five hundred people on board alive as possible. Women especially, as they were better suited for being hosts. Embryos usually matured more slowly in men and sometimes the host died prematurely.

He and his swarm took over the ship, deck by deck. He used the others mostly to guard access points to areas which weren't cleared yet. They reached the passengers without raising an alarm and used their saliva to seal them in their quarters. Only them did Harry order his companions to seek and capture any remaining people.

He destroyed the communication systems physically afterwards and tossed any satellite phones he found overboard. Some of the passengers had their own but they were still asleep at the moment. He would deal with them later.

Still in his monster form (he rarely phased to his human one), he brought the main computer back to working order. He went to the bridge and gradually accelerated to full speed. They needed to pick the others up and head south to Antarctica.

Harry intended to set the ship up as the main hive governed by his "first-born". Not that he had any intention of putting all eggs in one basket. Moreover, he himself wasn't going to stay for long. He needed to go back and keep bringing in new hosts. He could try something new next - merpeople, centaurs, and others.

* * *

Final preparations for publishing of "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore" were under way when the magical public was hit with truly sensational news. Remus Lupin, an unknown friend of the late Potters, killed Sirius Black. According to his testimony, Black himself approached him and asked him for help.

Normally, an achievement like that would grant the "lucky killer" an Order of Merlin. However, given the fact that Lupin was just a poor werewolf and succeeded only through backstabbing his friend, nothing came out of it. Moreover, Lupin himself didn't want any recognition.

Press tried to get an interview with him but Lupin wasn't interested. Xeno asked Rita to try her luck as well. After all, he had been a friend of the Potters and Rita was suspected to have a link to Harry. Rita had no intention of making any changes to the book this late but she guessed that Xeno could print her findings either before or after the book was published.

She managed to track Lupin down but she was too late. He had hanged himself.

When the book was published, it was perceived as a direct attack on Dumbledore (unlike the first one which was more indirect). Not that anybody minded or expected any different.

Some of the non-magical parents pulled their sons (and sometimes even daughters) from Hogwarts because of Dumbledore's orientation. Reaction of some other non-magical parents was exactly the opposite - they accused the former of intolerance and supported Dumbledore. Strangely enough, some magical families also decided that it wasn't in the best interest of their children to attend Hogwarts. Most wizards opted to ignore the matter of Dumbledore's preferences.

Reaction of McGonagall was disappointing (to Rita) but quite predictable in hindsight. On one hand, she couldn't condone some of Dumbledore's important decisions. At the same time, she condemned the breach of Dumbledore's privacy and pitied him. That was unfortunate because Rita lost an "ally". Fortunately, Dumbledore didn't trust Minerva as he used to before Harry's disappearance and he wasn't going to start trusting her again.

Not that he had a large circle of staunch supporters any more. It could be said that Rita's long term strategy was bearing its fruits. Dumbledore was loosing support both from public and from various competent wizards who could be of help to him.

One such wizard was Rita's old acquaintance - Kingsley Shacklebolt. He told Xeno that Dumbledore himself had approached him and tried to recruit him. What a hubris, considering the incident with the attempted kidnapping of Rita. According to Dumbledore, Voldemort was still out there somewhere, plotting his return. Kingsley refused, of course.

Rita knew that Dumbledore's theory was correct (if the Flamels could be trusted). She chose not to reveal this information to the Auror.

"Why are you telling this to me and not to your superiors?" asked Xeno when Kingsley finished his story.

"I have reported it to them already," answered Kingsley. "It was hinted to me that it would alright to share this with you as well."

Rita and Xeno noticed afterwards that Daily Prophet started to write about Dumbledore in a negative manner. Unlike Rita, they didn't conduct any in-depth investigations. Most probably because they didn't have any employees with Rita's capabilities. Hence, they limited themselves to covering his publicly known decisions as a headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief Warlock. Xeno found it unbelievable that they were willing to leave any deeper stuff to Quibbler.

Not long afterwards, something even more unbelievable happened. Cornelius Fudge contacted Xeno and asked him to arrange a meeting with Rita. This wasn't like the last time the ministry wanted to talk to Rita. Fudge was seeking an informal meeting. That he wanted something, was obvious.

Rita didn't want the meeting to happen at the ministry - Dumbledore was still the Chief Warlock. Fudge understood her concerns but other places weren't good for him because of low security and he didn't want to act under the radar. In the end, a rather controversial compromise was reached - the Malfoy manor. While controversial, it most certainly wasn't surprising. She had no doubt that Fudge wanted to talk about Dumbledore. Lucius Malfoy harboured resentment towards Dumbledore and was glad to assist in any endeavour aimed against him.

Xeno didn't accompany Rita to the meeting. Maybe it was Rita's paranoia rubbing off on him but the fact was that there was no need for both of them to be present.

Rita and the minister (along with his small entourage) convened at the manor. Lucius and his wife welcomed them heartily and led them to a drawing room. Once there, Lucius asked his wife to leave them. It seemed like he was going to join their meeting. Rita didn't comment on it in any way. After all, it wasn't so surprising.

They started their discussion wide and general. How Dumbledore was still dangerous even though he had lost much of his influence, how they needed to limit that influence even further and eventually get rid of him, and such. They turned to more concrete talk afterwards.

"Ms. Skeeter, I very much enjoyed your latest book," commended the minister. "Perhaps with a few exceptions which would be better left secret for the sake of decency and privacy. Alas, the book most certainly showed me that old schemer in a new light. Not that I liked him before but now, I see him for what he is. Wouldn't you say the same, Lucius?"

Malfoy understood perfectly well that Fudge was merely being polite. Still, he answered, "I can't say that I would. I always saw him for what he was. Still, I enjoyed the book. Masterful exposure."

"And every word of it was well researched and truthful," remarked Rita.

"Yes, very good work," reiterated Fudge. "Which brings me to my question. Is there more of it coming?"

"What do you mean? I've already written everything I knew about his life. Should I ever discover and fill some holes, I'll consider a second edition."

"Don't you intend to publish a second edition for your Harry Potter book first?" asked Malfoy innocently.

"That would be difficult without a new and credible source of information," retorted Rita.

"I'm not talking about Dumbledore's past or about Potter's fate," dismissed Fudge. "I'm talking about Dumbledore's present actions."

"I'm covering those, when time allows. And I'm not the only one."

"Yes, yes. Your articles in The Quibbler. Now, I'm not representing anyone but the ministry here. However, I was thinking that maybe it would help our cause if you started to do that full-time and in a proper newspaper."

Rita paused for a few seconds. A few years back, that was all she wanted - her old career back. Alas, she was past that.

"Going back to Daily Prophet," she observed finally. "You know, the last time I tried to do some proper investigative journalism in there, Dumbledore's friends in the leadership destroyed my career and credibility. Lovegood was the only one who would work with me back then even though it cost him in short term. I'm not going to abandon The Quibbler now."

"Fair point. I won't try to change your mind. The matter remains the same though - more scoops on Dumbledore are needed."

"That can be arranged," agreed Rita. "And if you want to reach the readers of Daily Prophet, they can always reference The Quibbler."

Neither Fudge nor Malfoy cringed when she said that. Neither of them held the newspaper in high esteem.

They rehashed their immediate plans concerning Dumbledore afterwards. It was clear enough to all of them - keep undermining his credibility, rob him of all support.

In the end, Fudge steered their discussion to a less solid note again. He made veiled inquires about a probability of Harry Potter's return. Rita was slightly miffed by that - didn't Fudge realize that they were sitting right next to a former Death Eater? She made equally veiled reaffirmations that she wasn't in contact with him and that if he was still alive, he most certainly wouldn't want to return for as long as Dumbledore was alive. After all, the public would be willing to forgive Dumbledore his transgressions if Harry Potter was proven to be alive. All the while, she managed not to think about a possibility that Harry might have a child on his hands at the moment.

When the meeting concluded and Fudge said his farewells, Malfoy asked Rita to stay behind for a moment. She wasn't sure about it but she also found it unlikely that he would try to kidnap her and torture her for information about Harry.

"I don't think you fully appreciate the danger Dumbledore poses to you," he told her.

"I think I know better than most people what's he capable of," she disagreed.

"Knowing better than most doesn't mean you can't underestimate him. Trust me. I was at war with him."

That kind of bluntness surprised Rita.

"Look at it this way," continued Lucius. "What would happen, if he killed you? Would the pros overweight the cons for him?"

"He could have killed me years ago," she argued.

"Years ago, you were a mere nuisance. Now, you are an immediate danger with a good motivation to hate him. Hence, I would like to provide you with a little insurance measure."

Rita started to refuse politely but Malfoy barked, "Dobby!" A house-elf appeared.

"This is Dobby, my house-elf," he explained. "As you know, they can apparate through anything, if their master needs them to."

"I see. I'm not sure what do you intend to propose, but let me tell you, I'm not interested in owning a house-elf."

"I didn't think that you would. Also, I'm not ready to give Dobby up. Alas, the house-elf magic doesn't require you to own him to enable him to hear you should you call. We can simply agree that he will be temporarily partially bound to you as your servant. We do that whenever we've got important guests so they can call Dobby whenever they need him. So, if Dumbledore ever comes knocking at your door, you will be able to call for help."

Rita didn't reply right away. She didn't like the idea of somebody being able to track her anywhere - especially if that somebody was magically bound to follow Malfoy's every order.

"I'll think about it and weigh my options," she answered finally. "After all, it wouldn't be fair to have you and your elf take any risk on my behalf."

"Take your time but rest assured, it's no bother at all."

Dobby was standing there shyly all the time while they were talking about him.

When Rita was leaving, she noticed a little figure hiding next to a path to the front gate. He was attempting to press himself into a hedge which looked rather comically.

"Dobby?" she addressed him when she recognized him. She kept her voice down, just in case Lucius wasn't aware that his house-elf was talking to her.

"Is it true that you are protecting Harry Potter?" he squeaked in a timid voice.

"I'm on his side, like any decent human being, if that's what you are talking about. I'm against Dumbledore because I believe that it will help Harry Potter."

"Even if You-Know-Who was out there?"

Rita paused briefly before answering firmly, "Especially then." Was the house-elf merely repeating Dumbledore's claims or had he heard something in the Malfoy manor?

Dobby reiterated Malfoy's offer and Rita promised to really consider it.

Rita and Xeno discussed the whole house-elf matter. In theory, it was a sound plan. If Dumbledore ever tracked Rita down and repeated the same threatening move he had done years before, Dobby, or another house-elf, could apparate in and simply whisk her away. In praxis, a house-elf would have a hard time evacuating Rita if "the landing zone was hot".

Rite and Xeno theorized that maybe Lucius was thinking bigger than mere evacuation. Maybe he intended to come along with Dobby and bring some muscle along. There was enough people who had a score to settle with Dumbledore. Yes, he was powerful, but most people still couldn't imagine him as a killer. It would be easy to see it as an opportunity to get back at him without taking too much risk.

This was also the reason why Rita didn't consider finding another house-elf to serve as her escape plan. That and the fact that house-elves were hard to come by, especially ones whose services were offered for free. Moreover, Xeno's research suggested that it wasn't going to be possible for Lucius to track Rita through Dobby unless she summoned him.

In the end, they decided that Rita should accept the offer. However, that didn't mean that they weren't going to improve their own measures as well. If anything, Xeno should be warned immediately if anything went wrong with Rita.

Rita met with Lucius (and Dobby) at Leaky Cauldron and they discussed the matter. Lucius was evasive about his true intentions and deflected Rita's subtle inquiries about his plan to confront Dumbledore. In the end, Rita agreed. No special rituals or spells were needed, Dobby simply acknowledged that Rita was authorized to summon him. She had a small suspicion that he had been able to answer her summons ever since that conversation by the hedge.

* * *

Harry observed a bunch of drones tear one of their own apart. It was a third one since the trials had started - a third drone to be tagged by the young queen and then failing to escape the proving grounds. Such was the process of finding a bodyguard for the queen. They had chosen to do it outdoors rather than on the ship because acid from a felled drone would have made a hole in its hull.

Harry wasn't sure whether random choosing of candidates was the most efficient option given their situation. Their population was still rather small. There had been a strapping athlete among the hosts. If it was up to Harry, he would pick the drone which had hatched from the athlete.

On the other hand, there was certain logic in the queen's actions from a long term point of view - they were weeding out the weak ones. Moreover, they couldn't be really sure which hosts were most likely to yield best warriors. For all Harry knew, that athlete had been an idiot and completing the trial (escaping the area and returning back again) required intelligence as well as speed.

* * *

The crusade against Dumbledore continued. Rita published her findings about Sirius Black. There were certain irregularities about his case (such as a lack of any trial) and some of them could be traced back to Dumbledore. Ministry was happy to let Rita make any accusations she wanted for as long as she wasn't pointing a finger at them. The Daily Prophet referenced her article. Before too long, people were whispering that Dumbledore had sent Sirius to Azkaban to prevent him from taking custody of Potter.

A special oversight was installed in Hogwarts by the Ministry of Magic. It had an unfortunate effect of uniting the remaining professors under Dumbledore's banner. That included Minerva and Flitwick. Maybe it had been a bad idea to mention Minerva to Harry after all.

All the while, Rita kept thinking about the fact that Voldemort was still out there. Still, her stance was same as ever - if the Dark Lord returned and Dumbledore was still in power, it would be a catastrophe for her and Harry. He needed to go down.

She knew that she was playing with fire. Sometimes, she thought about abandoning it all and disappearing, just like she had done years before. However, she couldn't do it to Xeno.

She thought that maybe, after Dumbledore's downfall, all three of them could move to France. Maybe Harry would contact them there. Luna's education would be probably over by that time. After Voldemort's return, they would have to go completely underground. Perhaps in Australia, where Theresa spent the last and probably the happiest part of her life. Rita missed the woman and regretted that she had never visited her grave.

The fact that Harry (probably) had a kid on his hands was possibly going to be a little difficult for Luna to swallow. However, she would accept it in time and with no other boys around, she would replace Theresa in his heart. While Harry looked like an adult man already at the moment, he was actually only a year older than Luna. And why the heck, maybe Rita herself and Xeno would hit it off as well! A Voldemort apocalypse was probably going to be too long to wait it out alone. Only, she wasn't sure whether she was going to be able to get over his eccentricity. Then again, she herself and Harry were going to be a weird company for the Lovegoods to keep as well.

Such were her musings one evening, when she was alone in her cottage and contemplated her future. Suddenly, a proximity alarm went off. Only, it was the secondary one with a smaller radius. She didn't have time to think about how was anybody able to find her abode or how was he able to enter the property, especially without triggering the primary alarm. Truth to be told, her first thoughts would probably go to Dobby and Malfoy.

She tried to apparate, just in case. It wasn't surprising to find that it wasn't possible. What was more troubling was the fact that she couldn't turn in a bug either. She had never heard about a ward capable of preventing that, especially one which could be raised so quickly.

Rita trained her wand at the entrance and considered calling Dobby. A second later, a wall behind her back exploded. She swivelled around and saw Dumbledore entering through the opening. Before she could finish the first word of the killing curse, he disarmed her.

"Miss Skeeter," he started but Rita wasn't interested in talking.

She cried out Dobby's name and drew her handgun, thumbing the fire selector to full auto. It was an unexpected move, even for an alleged muggle-lover like Dumbledore and even though she had been seen using a firearm before. Also, Rita's loud cry made it sound like she was invoking some magic. Before he managed to raise a shield, a bullet went through his lung. The remaining ones ricocheted in all directions, depending on their angle of impact.

Dumbledore slumped against a wall. It took all his will to cast a spell to close the wound on both sides. It didn't heal the injury entirely. Apart from the punctured lung and internal bleeding, there was the matter of massive tissue bruising caused by an invasion by a foreign object travelling at a supersonic speed.

It took a moment before he focussed on Rita again. She was on the floor, two bloody spots on her chest and one on her stomach. She also had a wound on her leg but that was the least of her problems. Blood was pouring from her mouth, she couldn't breathe, and there was a quickly growing pool of blood under her. It didn't seem like he was able to help her, especially in his weakened state.

Dumbledore couldn't say that Rita's death was an inconvenience. She probably didn't posses any real information about Harry and he intended to stop her by any means anyway, What he most certainly didn't like was the gunshot wound in his torso. With his own impenetrable wards in place (and with Fawkes gone), he was going to have to walk to the perimeter and then apparate himself. He cursed himself for his thoroughness - not even he himself could lower the wards from inside the area. It was going to be difficult to get out of there and he was starting to have black spots in front of his eyes already.

He gave the inside of the cottage one last look and wondered whether there wasn't some useful information hidden there after all. Alas, there was no time for a proper search. He was going to have to return later. He left through the same hole he had entered.

After a few meters, he realized that he needed to fix himself some better. He leaned on an apple tree and started casting. It was starting to be difficult for him to concentrate.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of an incoming apparation. It didn't sound like a wizarding one though. After all, his wards were still in place.

Four figures approached him, with a little fifth one trailing behind them. A house-elf. That was what Rita had shouted.

Identity of one of the four people didn't surprise Dumbledore at all. Lucius Malfoy always hated him and though he valued his privileged life more than his pride, he couldn't pass such an opportunity.

Two others were quite the opposite case because they were supposed to be dead. Barty Crouch Jr. - that explained Crouch's mystery a bit. Dumbledore couldn't believe that his old ally was so foolish.

Seeing Peter Pettigrew was more of a shocker. It seemed like Skeeter had been writing the truth about Sirius Black. Dumbledore didn't stop to ponder whether she knew about Peter. Absent-mindedly, he noted that his left hand was replaced by a silver prosthetic.

The last person wasn't so surprising but given the situation, he was the most dreadful. Lord Voldemort, in all his power and hideousness. In his heart, Dumbledore no longer thought about him as Tom Riddle. His guess was that Crouch senior was one of the components used to bring him back to life - blood of an enemy.

Dumbledore thought about attacking Voldemort himself but he realized perfectly well that it was futile. Even if he succeeded in taking him out in a surprise attack (not that he had the advantage of a surprise), he would still be open to a retaliation from two and a half strong wizards. In his current state, he couldn't take on all four of them.

Acting almost instinctively, he attacked Lucius. He was the most logical target in the situation. He didn't have much experience with the killing curse and he wasn't strong enough to cast one properly at the moment anyway. The same applied for any powerful damaging curses he knew. So, he cast something lethal and efficient. Lucius raised a shield to deflect Dumbledore's piercing spell. The spell made it through but it was weakened and diverted. It struck Lucius in his shoulder. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground.

At the same time, Voldemort severed Dumbledore's wand arm. Barty opted only for a petrifying spell. He knew his master's mind and understood that if he wanted the headmaster dead, he would simply cast the killing curse.

Peter didn't cast anything, he crouched instead. He didn't know about the ward but he didn't try to change into a rat anyway, that would be going too far. It was all over before he could take a prone position.

Dobby, driven by his loyalty to Malfoys, immediately rushed to Lucius and started tending to him. After a few house-elf spells to stop the bleeding and lessen the pain, Lucius waved him off. He didn't wish to appear weak in front of his master.

"I can patch myself up," he snapped. "Go find Skeeter."

"Yes, that would be most prudent," agreed Voldemort with a creepy smile.

Nobody imagined that Dobby could try to help Rita escape. It was pretty clear that she was dead anyway. Still, Voldemort gestured to Peter to follow after the house-elf.

The Dark Lord and Barty approached Dumbledore's paralysed form. Voldemort plucked the Elder Wand from the dead fingers of the severed arm. Barty aimed his wand at Dumbledore, even though it was pretty much redundant. Voldemort was about to sear Dumbledore's wound but seeing that the old man was about to loose his consciousness, he opted for a much gentler approach.

Inside the cottage, Dobby found Rita. She was long dead. Dobby felt some sadness over the fact but it was better that way.

Before Peter arrived, Dobby quickly looked around to see if there was anything that could lead wrong people to Harry Potter. He didn't see anything. That was logical - if there had been anything in plain sight, Dumbledore would have taken it with him.

Peter arrived.

"Is she dead?" he asked rather loudly.

Dobby nodded and returned to her body, pretending that he was re-checking her vitals.

"Well, good for her, I guess," mumbled Peter, echoing Dobby's sentiment.

Dobby noticed a small medallion. His magical senses revealed that the trinket had been activated a little while earlier. Perhaps an emergency signal? One thing was for sure - he was going to keep his mouth shut.

Peter stepped outside to watch what was being done with Dumbledore.

"I can't believe you've let us to get you so easily," admonished Voldemort disapprovingly.

He nodded at Barty who, with a flick of his wand, released Dumbledore from the paralysis. Not that Dumbledore was able to move anywhere anyway.

"It doesn't matter," rasped the headmaster. "I'm not the one who's supposed to stop you."

"I do not care. Ever since little Harry was born, I felt a certain connection to him, though only on a psychological level. After I lost my body, this connection intensified. But then it stopped. Do you know when? When he went missing! The way I see it, he's either dead or whatever was supposed to happen, happened. Maybe you shouldn't have left him with those muggle savages."

Dumbledore moaned and tried to picture the possibilities in his head. He knew the whole prophecy, so it wasn't over yet if Harry was still alive. However, what if he was dead? What if the Dursleys had actually murdered him? It didn't make any sense but at the end of his life, doubt overcame Dumbledore.

In the meantime, Dobby searched the cottage thoroughly. Nothing in there could possibly lead to Harry Potter. If he found something, he wouldn't hesitate to destroy it. It would be difficult but he had not been given any direct orders prohibiting such an action.

While Dumbledore was dying, Xeno was already raising hell at the ministry. It was night so almost no one was there. However, one of the present Aurors was loyal to Fudge and didn't like Dumbledore. The minister was notified and a strike team was formed.

"How are we going to be able to get there, if her property is warded?" asked one of the Aurors.

"This trinket wouldn't work, if she was inside those wards," answered Xeno, holding his counterpart of Rita's medallion. "So she either isn't at home or the wards have fallen."

Fudge arrived just when they were about to leave. He was haphazardly dressed in pants and a coat pulled over his nightgown. It seemed like he was determined to be hailed as the one who brought the great Dumbledore down. Truth to be told, he also welcomed the opportunity to take Rita into custody. Tracking Potter down would be an even greater success.

All of them apparated to Rita's location. With Dumbledore's jamming field gone, they arrived right into the cottage.

They found Dobby sitting next to Rita's body. He couldn't betray his master by he did his best to communicate by his eyes that there was danger outside. Two of the Aurors trained their wands on him.

"What the hell?" cursed Peter who came to investigate.

"Peter Pettigrew!" cried Xeno out, recognizing him immediately.

Peter didn't wait for anything and ran towards his master. An Auror hit him in his back by a stunner. Lord Voldemort and Barty looked up from Dumbledore's dead body.

Next few moments were rather comical. Two Aurors went to retrieve Peter and check the surroundings of the cottage. They froze when they saw the Dark Lord. He and Barty took no action. Maybe they were curious for how long were the newcomers intending to remain frozen. Behind them, Lucius put a mask on hastily.

The others emerged from the cottage to investigate what were the two Aurors staring at, Fudge trailing behind them. That was when the moment was broken.

"My lord?" whispered Lucius.

"Kill them all," uttered Voldemort.

If they were alone and Lucius had time and self-confidence to talk to his master, he would advise him to let Fudge live because it was better for them to keep a weak politician (and Lucius's associate) as the minister. However, Voldemort was sick and tired of politicking anyway. Dumbledore was dead, it was time for direct action.

There were only two survivors - Xeno and a heavily injured Auror. The said Auror would surely perish as well but Xeno had enough wherewithal to take him along when he escaped himself. He considered it better to escape and tell others that Voldemort was back rather than stay and try to save Fudge.

"We've tipped our hand," commented Barty as he and his master examined the dead body of the minister. "We might have to make our move sooner than expected."

"Indeed. We'll carry out our Azkaban plan before sunrise."

"My lord! That soon?" cried out Lucius, who just revived Peter.

"Yes. There's no time to loose. Go gather the others, we'll meet at your manor."

Barty assumed the task of searching and disposing of the bodies. That included Dumbledore but didn't extend to Rita. He hoped that it would buy them some time - a few hours at least. Voldemort and Peter went to the cottage to look for anything useful.

"Have you found anything?" asked the Dark Lord as they walked.

"No, my lord," answered Peter. "But the house-elf is still searching."

Dobby had all papers with Rita's handwriting stacked on a table. Her medallion was next to them.

"What have you found?" asked Peter. Voldemort didn't bother, the little creature was terrified by him.

"This seems to be how they were alerted, sir," squeaked Dobby and pointed at the medallion.

Voldemort picked it up and examined it briefly.

Nodding at the papers, he told Peter, "Take those and go."

Pettigrew and Dobby left. Voldemort lingered to look around some more. The gun caught his attention. It explained Dumbledore's injury. He found it ironic that somebody who had always professed to be a champion of muggles was finally brought down by a muggle invention.

Barty vanished last corpse and went to rejoin his master.

"She was clever," commented the Dark Lord, holding out the medallion. "She didn't rely on Lucius's help alone. And it seems Fudge was holding out on him, preparing his own scheme."

"Maybe it was just something between her and Lovegood who then alerted the ministry."

"Yes, possibly."

"What shall we do about him?"

"Nothing. He and Skeeter helped us greatly. Go, I'll be with you shortly."

When he was alone, Voldemort laid the medallion on Rita's body. He followed after Barty then.

* * *

With the other survivor being in critical condition, Xeno was the only able to tell what had happened. Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour were rather sceptical about his account. Still, Skeeter, Dumbledore, and Fudge were dead, not to mention several Aurors. Moreover, Xeno was testifying under Veritaserum.

"Madam Bones?" asked Xeno after they were done and Scrimgeour went to check on the injured Auror. "Without a doubt, You-know-who is going to come after me. This means my daughter is in danger as well. I need to see after her safety."

"Isn't your daughter in France?"

"I fear that means little to the Dark Lord."

Bones refused to let him go. Given the situation, it was foolish from Xeno to expect to be allowed to leave the ministry, let alone the country. He was permitted to contact the school at least and explain the danger to Luna and Madame Maxime.

His detention didn't last long. He slipped away in the morning when the chaos erupted in earnest. Luckily, he had been planning for a possible move to France though not in such a hurry.

He contacted his Quibbler associates and warned them. He thought about moving the magazine to France as well but at the moment, it was more important to get himself and his personal possessions out of the country.

* * *

The sonar decoy worked. Harry and his "squad" exploited a brief decrease of USS Ohio's speed as it changed course. In a little while, they were all attached to the submarine's hull. They could tear their way inside but that would jeopardise their goal.

Next day, when the submarine surfaced to repair a seemingly innocent malfunction which couldn't be dealt with from inside, Harry sneaked inside using his magical camouflage ability. After Ohio submerged again, Harry let the others inside through an airlock. The most important thing was to avoid detection.

Less than an hour later, the ship was theirs. All the senior officers were captured and Harry was eating their brains, one by one. Most of the crew was killed but some were kept to be used as hosts later.

Harry collected all the necessary keys from their safes. Some of those had combination locks (with the combination being supposed to come as a part of a launch order) but that wasn't a problem. Given enough time, they could get inside using acid.


	9. Endgame

Endgame

There was a war, of course. Only in the the magical Britain at first but muggles started to feel its effect soon enough as well. During this time, Harry and his queens limited themselves to a few covert operations. Their stunt with the submarine panicked a lot of people so it was better to lie low. Harry didn't know whether other nuclear powers were appraised of the situation but the fact remained that the submarine was being searched for.

It didn't take long for the Ministry of Magic to fall. With people like Dumbledore and Moody gone, there was no one left to stand against the magic of the likes of Voldemort, Barty, Bella, and others.

Eventually, the war spilled over to non-magical world. It was a messy situation filled with chaos and destruction. Surprisingly enough, Harry didn't have to orchestrate it - it was all part of Voldemort's design. Maybe the two "great" minds thought alike?

Harry and the queens contemplated the situation. It was decided to stay their hand for the moment and deploy their nuclear weapons at the right time, at the right targets.

Alas, the events were faster than them. An idea started to brew in United States to take a radical action. Maybe it was because they were so nervous about their missing submarine and suspected Voldemort's forces of the theft. Maybe they didn't believe their wizards who insisted that the Dark Lord didn't even know what a nuclear bomb was.

And so the Dark Lord made the first move. It was unknown whether he knew about the missing submarine and wondered who stole it. What was obsoletely certain was the fact that he was perfectly aware how United States and other nuclear powers felt. While he had seized control over British nuclear silos, in fact, and knew how to use them, he was certain that it was the idea of magic that scared them the most (or at least every bit as much as the idea of nuclear weapons in the hands of terrorists).

Before nuclear powers could agree on a nuclear strike against Britain, Voldemort launched his missiles. Not at the United States but at Russia of all targets. Yes, they were a threat, but his plan was to trigger a global nuclear war. He assumed that if an ally of USA launched a nuclear attack on Russia, it would retaliate.

Or did he? Russia obviously knew about the situation in Britain and about the planned American attack. So, instead of Americans and Russians launching missiles at each other, they annihilated Great Britain instead.

What exactly had been Voldemort hoping to achieve is unknown. Maybe he had always intended to destroy Britain. Maybe he didn't expect Hogwarts and other important places to be destroyed, which was exactly what happened (unplottability does have its limits). Maybe he fled to continental Europe or to America, like Grindelwald decades ago.

Whatever he had planned was most probably derailed by what Harry did afterwards. His submarine was in South China Sea at the moment, dodging a few pursuing American attack subs. It was an explosive situation from a diplomatic point of view. Harry didn't know whether the Chinese government had been told about the stolen submarine and whether they believed the story. He suspected that they were aware that there were American submarines operating in their backyard and that they deployed their own ones.

He knew what he needed to do to trigger a global nuclear war. He rigged the reactor to meltdown and launched all his missiles at China. They abandoned the ship quickly.

China could have shown restraint like Russia. Unfortunately, the world wasn't meant to be so lucky twice in a day. They launched their own weapons against USA and a chain reaction was started.

In a short time, all major cities in the world were destroyed. It was all the nuclear apocalypse people had always imagined. When the radioactive dust settled, Xenomorph queens began their campaign to conquer Earth. Harry wasn't sure where Voldemort was or if there were any powers left to oppose them but it didn't matter. If they waited too long, wizards, vampires, or goblins would establish their own reign over the planet. At the moment, all of those were still getting their bearings after the nuclear holocaust.

In first couple of days, they limited themselves to kidnapping people and using them to bolster their ranks. Many of them were irradiated but that hardly mattered. Among the taken were quite a few magical people who lived aside from larger magical settlements. Harry oversaw those attacks personally - a wizard was formidable foe, even for their kind.

Afterwards, while the new drones were still hatching, they made their first series of proper strikes. Facilities with remaining nuclear weapons, conventional military bases, anti-nuclear bunkers with survivors, and so on. Apart from gaining more hosts, the goal was to secure various resources and materials - something no one would expect from their kind. Alas, they were far more pragmatic and calculating than their fictional original.

There was also an attack on a magical settlement. Once again, Harry led it himself. It had to be done flawlessly and no one could have been allowed to escape.

There was a metamorphmagus among these new acquisitions. Harry was curios how the drone was going to turn out. Later on, during full moon, another group hunted down and captured a pack of werewolves. Again, an interesting kind of a host.

As time went, many people kept dying of radiation sickness. Population dropped drastically. This hit merpeople, centaurs, and others as well. On the other hand, dragons and other powerful creatures remained unaffected. Dementors roamed free and fed on people indiscriminately. They ignored the aliens though, almost as if they were invisible to them. That was no great surprise.

Muggle population was in chaos. There were various gangs prowling around, trying to survive at the expanse of others. Some armies were trying to enforce law and order but succeeded only in small areas, if at all.

Goblins were pretty much inactive. They hid from radioactive fallout in caves and dungeons and kept a low profile. Maybe they knew about the new power which was about to conquer Earth. Maybe they simply wanted everybody else to make their moves before making any decisions of their own.

Some wizards learned about the Xenomorph invasion eventually. They didn't found out how smart they were though and considered them just another previously unknown magical creature. As a result, no one made a connection when a large magical settlement which planned to eradicate the creatures in their area was destroyed by a nuclear bomb. They blamed muggles instead and for a while, the conflict between the two was rekindled.

When "Harry's" forces did come out in earnest, it didn't really matter how many people saw them. The world was no longer as interconnected as before. Internet was gone along with everything else. Harry's queens and their hives gained ground and no one ever came to aid people in the conquered areas. However, the conquerors didn't behave as one would expect them to.

There was no pointless killing and while many were used as hosts initially, it was only the old and sick. Later on, only the oldest and dying were used. After all, there was no rational reason to use young people. Moreover, they didn't behave like human occupational force either and they actually didn't need anything from humans (other than hosts).

At this point, Harry was certain that all the goblins around the world knew about the new rulers of the planet. Somehow, he doubted that they were sheltering wizards and working with them on some kind of a biological weapon which would wipe all the hives out. He figured that they wished to be neutral, just like they had been with wizards before (hopefully with less armed conflicts though).

* * *

After several years, the situation on Earth more or less stabilized. Harry had to admit that it wouldn't happen so fast without the hives. Every hive was like a nation, with a queen on top of its hierarchical pyramid. Most of these "nations" hosted human population on their territories.

Such people lived in virtual serfdom on one hand but on the other, they paid no taxes, didn't need an army to protect them, and were allowed their own law enforcement and judges to settle their internal affairs. Need for new drones gradually decreased so only exceptional people were being selected to serve as hosts at the end of their lives. Some human settlements even formed a religion around this and perceived it as a form of an ascension.

All in all, real life aliens were quite the opposite from the fiction. Even Harry's original vision was a far cry from how it all turned up in the end. They were more like Formics or Arachnids. Using an analogy from Earth's politics, an apt description would be a perfect communist society.

All the hives formed a global network. It was decentralized but the first queen served as a kind of an unofficial "chairman". Harry's importance gradually decreased and he was relegated to an advisory and auxiliary role. He sometimes worked as an undercover ambassador to humans but he had no influence on the hives. It seemed that the others understood perfectly well that he wasn't one of them.

After much observation and deliberation, goblins chose to establish contact. They and the hives managed something that the humans of the old had found very difficult - peaceful relations without any "goblin rebellions". Once again, Harry doubted that goblins planned some kind of a treachery to become a dominant species themselves.

However, it was the dragons who were the uncontested dominators of the world. With their caretakers gone, they took to the skies and ranged all over the planet. Bearing no love for Harry's brood, they roasted any drones they saw. Sometimes, they even ate them but they preferred game. The queens saw no reason to do anything about this because it was a good natural mechanism for weeding out their population.

Of Voldemort, no one heard again. Maybe all his horcruxes had been destroyed in that first nuclear holocaust. Maybe his visions had no place in the new world. Maybe he possessed a drone and recognized its kind as his own creation - which it partially was. It had to be admitted - Harry had provided the shape but Voldemort had provided the substance.

* * *

 **Many years later:**

Harry (in his monstrous form) stepped through the last blast doors in a resistance base. It was eaten through by blood of a sacrificed drone. That may be seen as wasteful but it was actually cheaper and more convenient than using explosives. The drone was injured anyway.

The fighting inside was mostly over. There were a few non-magical humans wielding high-tech weapons combining machine guns and flamethrowers. Only one wizard left. Strangely enough, he didn't apparate away nor did he summon Fiendfyre. Maybe he didn't know how. Maybe it had something to do with a gigantic rocket behind him.

So that was what they had been building. Harry knew that it was something big when their goblin informants brought this resistance cell to their attention but the reality was way grander than his theories.

They had known that there was a black market and that goblins were trading with free humans. The queens (with a little input from Harry) debated the matter and decided to leave them alone. He argued that by eradicating those last few pockets, they would be also extinguishing the last spark of genuine human ingenuity because for the moment, all the best wizards, scientists, and inventors lived outside of their influence. Understanding this was quite a leap for the queens but not as big as some might think.

Moreover, goblins needed access to better wizards, which the "resistance" loaned to them in exchange for materials and other resources they required.

And so they made a deal. Goblins continued their black market activities and the hives looked the other way. In exchange they reported any trades which suggested something bigger than usual.

And so Harry found himself in a large underground complex. It looked old but with recent renovations. Maybe some clandestine research facility which had escaped their search?

All the opposition was broken. There was a sole survivor who looked like a chief engineer. He tried to kill himself but the drones prevented him from that. He was brought to Harry.

Being old and having consumed many brains, Harry didn't achieve a perfect read when his inner jaw penetrated the man's skull. It was mostly a series of pieces. However, he did manage to focus his search on the project the resistance had been working on. Together with findings of drones searching the complex, he managed to understand the whole picture.

They had planned to send people to another star system and found a colony there. A colony of free people to preserve their culture. The engineer didn't know much about the planet though. The means of getting there though, that was his department.

There were two rockets, each with its own silo. The plan was to launch both of them at the same time. They carried two different payloads of similar weights which were supposed to connect at the orbit.

One was an interstellar engine. Its nuclear reactor didn't allow for such a big acceleration as a chemical one but it could add up to a much greater velocity over sufficient time.

The other part was an ark. Drones who secured the silo didn't enter it and waited for Harry. The consumed memories revealed that it contained two dozen of adults in stasis, thousands of embryos, and supplies and equipment to start a colony (including artificial wombs). Magic had been used to increase the ark's capacity but the engineer didn't know much about that.

Personal inspection revealed further details. There were three separate containers with magically enlarged space inside them in the ark, self-contained and shielded so their magic wouldn't interfere with the ship's systems. Nothing was done about the weight because the mechanics of spells like _Locomotor_ wouldn't work in getting something to orbit. Enchantments on the magical containers were only temporary. It seemed it's only purpose was to make the design of the ark more compact and thus make it easier to get it out of the atmosphere.

Once in space, the containers were meant to be extended out (thus making the exterior as big as the interior) and remain non-magical for the rest of the trip. As for landing, the three modules were supposed to descend separately but they didn't have their own propulsion. They did have grid fins for manoeuvring and various parachutes though. The idea was for the ark to detach from the interstellar engine and de-accelerate. Once in atmosphere, the modules would eject while the ark itself would burn. The engine was meant to be left at the orbit for future generations.

Before that, however, another part of the ship was supposed to detach, land on the planet, and survey the landing area. There was a small lander for that purpose and it could, if still attached to the ship, also serve as its cockpit. There were two extra stasis pods in the central part of the ark for the pilots who were supposed to do this task and safeguard the success of the mission should anything unexpected happen. The room with the pods had computer terminals in them which could also be used to control the ship. Harry checked the names on the pods and remembered that two pilots with such name-tags on their uniforms were killed during the battle. Luckily, the flight was automatic.

They had to act quickly. Regardless of what they wanted to do, they had to do it before the space enlargement enchantments wore out. Harry returned to a staging area which had been set near the first rocket by the drones in the meantime. Using a strange communication device which didn't resemble anything human-made and which utilised even stranger language and protocol, he added his latest findings to a report filed by the drones already.

While the queens were deliberating, he hurried about finding additional information. The most important thing was to find out more about the ship's destination which, as stated before, was yet another thing which the chief engineer had known little about. It was a planet similar to Earth which could theoretically support life. However, Harry doubted that it had breathable atmosphere and drinkable water.

Luckily, more information wasn't hidden behind heavy encryption. The planet had been discovered shortly before the nuclear war. Spectral analysis revealed its similarity to Earth. After the rise of the hives and forming of the resistance, magical technologies were used to find out more. Similar size and gravity, water, and atmosphere containing enough nitrogen and some oxygen (which possibly suggested presence of primitive algae). Obviously, the air and water couldn't be used "as is" but that was no problem.

All the navigation data was already in the ship's computer. That simplified things a lot. They were basically prepared to go.

Another interesting detail was that the stasis chambers could be briefly opened without waking the person inside up. That, along with their dossiers, gave Harry an idea.

The queens finished their deliberation. They agreed with Harry to finish the mission. His reasoning was that the people in the ark were the pinnacle of human intellect and the frozen embryos were also carefully selected. No matter how stable and peaceful the "ordinary" human population was, their subservience to the hive queens went hand in hand with a loss of certain edginess so typical for certain humans - humans like Harry himself or the resistance. The fact that the queens had yet to colonise Mars or Venus while some underground resistance constructed an interstellar colony ship proved that point perfectly.

The adult people in the ark could be used to hatch new drones and the embryos could become a foundation of a new human colony protected and guided by a new hive. To that end, Harry went through the ship's database and erased anything about what had happened after the nuclear war.

A few goblins arrived to take a look at the installation they had helped to find. They weren't allowed inside the ships though.

As the preparations continued, Harry contemplated what his own role in the endeavour was going to be. This question went hand in hand with another: What was his role on this planet lately? The hives didn't need him any more. Moreover, he was getting old and so his usefulness decreased even further. Unfortunately, this very fact also negated any possibility of him actively participating in the upcoming adventure.

As he wandered through the ark module during his pondering, he passed a reflective surface. Driven by a sudden idea, he looked around and saw that there were no drones in vicinity. He phased to his human form, for the first time in many years. It was more difficult than he remembered but he managed in the end.

A blurred reflection of an old naked man stared back at him. His physical state was even worse than he originally thought. There was only one course of action left for him.

He reverted back to a monster. Once again, he was met with certain difficulty. It wasn't as if the process was more complicated than before but it simply took him longer.

He issued appropriate instructions to drones working on preparations. He didn't even think about saying goodbye to the first queen. Such a thing would be quite sentimental, human even.

The adult colonists were implanted with a larvae - they were never going to wake up. A warrior drone took the copilot's pod. It was selected for its above average intelligence. Final countdown started.

Then it was Harry's turn. He turned to his human form and was implanted. It was quite an unpleasant experience.

The ships lifted off, both at the same time, just as planned. Connection went automatically without a hitch. Harry extended the container modules. The ship was completely non-magical from that moment.

He was starting to feel discomfort from the larvae. It was high time to get inside his pod. He still waited till the main engine was engaged. Only when he was satisfied he gave himself a "stasis injection" a closed himself in his pod.

While his body slept, a small part of his mind which still exhibited a low level of activity dreamt. In his dream, Harry connected with the larvae he carried and started to share his memories with it.

* * *

Many years later according to the ship's time and several centuries according to Earth's, the ship assumed orbit around the destination planet. The pilots' pods opened and Harry's larvae burst out of his body. It had most of his memories but it would be ridiculous to say that it was his reincarnation or that it shared his personality. It felt no connection when it looked back at his body and felt no revulsion as it feasted on his flesh.

The adult drone walked to a terminal in the meantime and activated it as instructed back on Earth. There were automatic checks under way and scans of the atmosphere and surface. The drone didn't understand completely what it saw but it resembled a pattern it had been trained to look for.

After initial scans were complete, the entire ship went automatically to a lower orbit and started new scans. Each step of the procedure was carried out as planned until the ark alone descended to an orbit from which the final landing procedures were supposed to begin.

Both the drone and Harry's larvae went to the cockpit. Strictly speaking, they could open all the other pods and take the larvae with them but it had been decided against it back on Earth. It was better not to put all eggs in one basket.

The ship's computer found a perfect spot to land all four craft and start a colony. All they had to do was to get there with the lander and signal back. There were some contingencies for a case the lander didn't make it, of course. Originally, those had involved waking the others up but Harry disabled that before his implantation. The ship was simply going to trigger the descend automatically and try to drop the containers without any guidance from the lander.

Once in the lander, the drone performed the few mechanical actions necessary for decoupling. The craft implicitly operated in auto-pilot mode. It was clear that if something went wrong, there would be nothing they would be able to do. Such was the price for excluding any humans from participating in the mission.

They "strapped themselves in" (or rather fooled the system to think that both pilots were safely secured in their seats) and the drone pushed a button confirming readiness to launch and a countdown appeared. They had to wait for a window. A bizarre trivia was that the drone could actually read the numbers and understand that it denoted the time left. Harry's larvae spent this time by getting its bearing and sorting out Harry's memories. Its brain wasn't fully developed yet though so they didn't made much sense yet.

Finally, the time for launch came. Nothing grand happened in the beginning though. Just a low-powered decouple which could be barely heard inside the cabin. A new countdown appeared. After some time, when the lander was clear enough, it turned and used RCS to get more distance. Only then did it fire its engine and started to decelerate.

The ride down was rough but well within the capabilities of the autopilot. They touched down on the planet's surface and signalled the fact back to the ship. The signal for initiating the second (and final) phase of the landing wasn't sent yet though.

The drone opened the door and, ignoring a warning about the atmosphere being unbreathable, ran out to scout. Harry's larvae watched as it ran around in a spiral pattern. Some time later, they started to loose contact with the ship due to its low angle above horizon.

All in all, there was nothing of interest around them. They were surrounded by wasteland and, as they knew already, that wasteland stretched over the entire planet. If there had been any human scientists with them, they would have started taking samples to see if there were any primitive algae but the two Xenomorphs didn't care much about that.

When the ark rose above the horizon again, Harry's larvae sent a signal. The ark acknowledged the signal and before it made another orbit, it started its descent into the atmosphere.

They noticed a cluster of burning shards on the sky first. Those were the remains of the ark. None of them reached the surface, all of them burned in the air.

Three fireballs came afterwards. They slowed down though and stopped burning. Their parachutes started to open. One by one, the containers touched down in the selected area though the one with the passengers ended up some distance away.

When the adult drone reached it, the stasis pods were deactivated already but, due to Harry's changes on them, the people inside didn't wake up. Before too long, their larvae started to hatch and feast on their bodies. The other two containers were left unopened for the time being.

Days (which were almost twice as long as Earth ones) passed and the hatchlings grew. Harry's one had a small head start in that. They searched the area thoroughly and scouted the broader surroundings. Other than water (frozen and mixed with other substances), they didn't find anything.

Harry's drone grew smarter and smarter until it could process Harry's legacy. It didn't make the other drones not to consider it as one of them (unlike in Harry's case). Another interesting trivia was that while the adult drone was de-facto in charge, it didn't fully assume leadership. It acted more like a guide and a caretaker. Maybe it was because the drone wasn't part of the new brood - it was part of one of the Earth's hives sent there to assist in creation of a new one.

They opened the container with supplies and started building a base. They wanted to start growing first human embryos as soon as possible. By the time they were done with basics, "Harry's drone" grew to adulthood and started showing symptoms of pseudo-magical abilities similar to those Harry had commanded when in his monstrous form. It also proved much smarter than the Earth drone.

It was then when the old drone provided its last service to the new hive - it challenged the budding leader. While the older drone seemed to have an advantage thanks to being older and thus more developed, it ended up being a rather one sided fight. Armed with an ability to read its opponent's mind while keeping its own hidden, the younger drone won and became a new leader and a future queen.

Years passed and first generation of human colonists grew. The colony didn't become what the authors of the idea had hoped it would become - a think tank of independent and bright humans. Then again, maybe the project would fail entirely without the supervision provided by the drones.

Strangely enough, Harry's drone never wondered about what was happening back on Earth and for the moment, they had no way of finding out. As for the other drones, Earth was a concept as distant for them as for their human charges. It didn't matter much - their responsibility was the planet they were on at the moment.

As said, the first generation of humans wasn't spectacular at all. Being born from artificial wombs and not having parents affected them significantly. Their social behaviour resembled that of the drones taking care of them. They accepted the breeding program outlined to them in instructional videos without question.

Following generations had a little bit more spark in them though. They started to wonder what happened to this mystical Earth they were taught about, how had their parents gotten there, and who were their guardians. Seeing that the drones ran outside with no protection while they themselves needed spacesuits, they came to a theory that the drones were native to the planet and took care of the "human ark" out of curiosity and "goodness of their hearts".

This theory was somewhat contradicted by their knowledge that the drones hatched out of old people. They had not seen it yet but they knew about it from their guardians. This was confirmed when the first generation reached an age when health complications became more and more common. One by one, they allowed themselves to be put in narcosis from which they never woke again. For the first time since its formation, the hive grew.

Younger colonists debated what this obvious link between them and the drones meant. For some reason, their species were compatible so maybe the supposed aliens were actually from Earth. Moreover, new drones looked just like the older ones which meant that the older ones were hatched from humans as well. All of that raised many questions but in the end, the colonists never knew any other life than that under the protection of their guardians. Some even proposed that they were genetically engineered to help them on this barren and inhospitable world. That begged a question why there wasn't anything about them on the data drives brought from Earth.

As time went, less drones were hatched. Like on Earth before, only extraordinary people were chosen when they grew old. At the same time, healthcare for the remaining elderly was limited and many old people with failing health chose euthanasia to conserve resources. Hence, not being chosen wasn't considered a good thing. Eventually, being chosen started to be seen as an ascension, just like in some places on Earth.

On first glance, the colony wasn't better in any way to previous hive-nations. The ruling ideology was pure communism. Everybody had to work, everybody was assigned same quarters according to family size, everybody ate the same food in mess halls together. The only recognition for rising above average was being chosen to become a host.

And yet, this setting didn't stifle human ingenuity as much as it had been expected. Maybe it was because of the challenges of living on another planet. There was a constant stream of problems to solve and not just for their survival but for improvement of their lives there. The final goal was to terraform the planet, after all. It was the holy grail of all their toiling and way beyond their league at the moment.

Magic reappeared in time but not on the scale it was expected by the founders of the project. None of the embryos donated by magical parents grew into people with magical aptitude. It seemed that there was more to it than DNA. Fortunately, a few of the descendants of such "squibs" displayed hints of magic several generations later.

As there were no teachers of wizardry, the queen taught all the children (using telepathy to convey instructions). As with all things related to aliens, it was considered a great honour. The drones built a special temple for that and human engineers connected it to the colony's ventilation system. They couldn't install air filters directly in the temple because of the EM interference from practising magic.

The books and wands brought from Earth proved to be useless soon enough. Maybe it was because of the planet, maybe it was due to people there having a different mindset. Conventional curriculum had to be dropped and the queen started to teach more basic powers such as telepathy (which the students already needed to be able to communicate with their teacher) and telekinesis.

For all this time, drones kept searching the planet, using the orbital scans as a guide. One day, they discovered a cave system with liquid water. A laboratory was constructed some distance away from the city and samples were brought there. Human scientists discovered some primitive algae in them. Perhaps it was something they could use in the terraforming process one day?

Alas, such thoughts were premature. They still had a long road ahead and the queen suspected that Earth was going make contact with them before that (unless something terrible had happened there). But that is another story.


End file.
